


Echoes

by AvatarKhepri



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvatarKhepri/pseuds/AvatarKhepri
Summary: Even a long long time later, the past still echoes. Instead of getting bug control in the locker, Taylor became Force-Sensitive. This is her adventures in learning to wield the force, guided by the advice of a long-dead force spirit.
Kudos: 25





	1. Apathy 1.1

Apathy 1.1  
  
_< Breathe in. Breathe out.>_  
  
Taylor could hear a soft giggle behind her, no doubt Madison readying for whatever minor prank she was going to pull today. She kept her gaze forward, ostensibly watching Mr. Gladly as he explained the day's assignment to the class.  
  
_< In, out. Ignore the idiot and focus on that feeling. Focus on the air filling your lungs, the minuscule specks of life floating in and out of you.>_  
  
The period had started out being more about how parahumans affected the day-to-day life of the common citizenry, how certain groups rising into and falling out of power had changed Brockton Bay for the better and the worse. But the group assignment being put forth was framed as "imagine what might happen in the future, given who's around right now and how their powers might interact", which was just a roundabout way of putting the class into small groups that could have fun arguing versus debates under the guise of classwork.  
  
_< In, out. Expand your senses beyond the self. Feel those specks everywhere around you. Feel them swirling within the other students.>_  
  
Taylor heard a small box being opened, felt something touch her hair ever so lightly and start to move. As her awareness expanded, she felt it in its entirety: a small roach was currently making its way up towards her scalp, no doubt an intended reminder of the infested hell she'd been stuck in. Madison wasn't getting points for creativity, that was for sure.  
  
_< In, out. Control is excessive with such simple creatures. A light touch...>_  
  
Steeling herself as she felt it crawl further, Taylor brushed her awareness against the rudimentary insect's mind. A brief touch, but enough to stick a bit of fear into it, an understanding that it was in peril and needed to retreat. Just enough for it to scurry back down her back and away from her, back towards the person behind her.  
  
_<...and watch as the pond ripples in response.>_  
  
Madison shrieked and tried to both back away and stand up entirely too fast, and wound up tipping her desk over on top of her in her haste to escape the skittering roach. Taylor half-turned in her seat to take in the sight, reacting as if she hadn't known what was coming just as those around her reacted similarly. All eyes were drawn to the prone girl, and in just a few moments Mr. Gladly had rushed over to see what was the matter. "What happened? Is everything alright?"  
  
_< In, out. Feel her mind, shaken by the unexpected turn of events. Build upon it, ever so lightly...>_  
  
Taylor spread her awareness to Madison's mind. It was more complex than the bug, but in many ways was still far too simple to be beyond her reach. She brushed her consciousness against the girl's own, briefly gaining flashes of insight into her thought process - and with but a touch, she withdrew, for the damage was done.  
  
Madison started hyperventilating, eyes darting around frantically. "R-r-roach!" she squeaked out in reply to Mr. Gladly's question. Gladly visibly restrained a sigh as he understood the situation better, and while he tried to assuage her that it was gone now, her focused remained absolute just long enough for the other students' concern to shift into amusement. A small wave of snickers broke out around the class - look at how quickly Madison loses her cool around a simple bug! Only Taylor knew the truth.  
  
_< In, out. Once more, this time making fear to anger.>_  
  
Taylor focused, touching Madison's inhibitions just a little bit, using the snickers as fuel to make her a bit more defensive than she'd usually be.  
  
The girl glanced at Taylor and her features twisted a bit before she raised an accusatory finger. "Taylor put it on my desk!"  
  
The snickers grew louder, from those around them who'd noticed no such thing, but Mr. Gladly ignored them. "Taylor, that's very immature, you gave Madison quite the fright," he scolded her.  
  
"I didn't do it," Taylor insisted, even as she knew her insistence would fall on deaf ears. She glanced away, knowing the lack of eye contact would convince him of her guilt, and uses the opportunity to make sure Madison's phone was - yup, Greg had already spotted it and picked it up out of curiosity. Shame it was unlocked, too; he'd probably take longer than he should to return it to its rightful owner, but that was fine by Taylor.  
  
Sure enough, Gladly wasn't buying it. "I won't tolerate you lying to my face, Ms. Hebert," he scolded her as he helped Madison to her feet. Once she was up, he lead Taylor to the front of the class and started writing a note. "Take this to the office," he told her once he'd finished. "I trust you know the way." She accepted the note silently and took a quick circle to collect her backpack before leaving the room. He made a fuss, trying to insist she leave it there so that if the office processed her quickly she could return in time to finish the lesson, but by then she'd be stuck with whatever group she was put into and wouldn't be able to participate anyway, so why bother pretending she was going to return today? His protests died off as she crossed the threshold, giving it up as a lost cause.  
  
_< Distract him enough times, and he'll eventually stop remembering to follow up on that disciplinary action. With just a few small touches, you've gained twenty minutes' peace.>_  
  
Taylor nodded, clenching the note within her fist and feeling it slowly disintegrate in her grip, torn apart at the molecular level by her will until nothing remained. The rhythmic click-clack of her shoes on the hallway floor seemed almost thunderous to her enhanced senses...but as with everything else, this was an opportunity to practice. She focused once more, and the sharp sounds of her steps became more and more muffled the further she traveled. She'd slip in among the first lunch period, get a quick bite to eat, then head up to the roof to spend her actual lunch period training while the Trio hunted for her.  
  
_< Or setting up more ripples.>_  
  
Taylor pursed her lips as she entered the cafeteria. The lines were short since this lunch period was almost over, but a few stragglers were still ahead of her so she had a bit of a wait. She spent the time practicing expanding her awareness further, as far as she could without giving any outward signs of her actions. Taylor grimaced as her mental faculties strained to engulf the whole of the cafeteria, filled with juniors and seniors and the odd janitor, filled with tables and trays and backpacks and trash. Maintaining absolute awareness of everything over such a large area taxed her concentration, enough that she doubted she could affect much of anything while her awareness was so broad.  
  
_< Broader than it was yesterday. And less so than it shall be tomorrow. Don't be impatient.>_  
  
Taylor got her food, ignoring a weird look from the lunchlady, and exited the cafeteria quickly. The new lunch period would be starting any minute, meaning the three of them would be loose from class and on the hunt once more. A touch here, a distraction there, and the few hall monitors she couldn't avoid didn't notice her using the roof access. She sat down to enjoy her meal and the lovely weather Winslow had today. Shame most of the students spent the whole day inside. Once her fuel was consumed, she sat down in a meditative position, closed her eyes, and felt everything.  
  
Her breathing slowed to a crawl, her body doing the bare minimum to maintain itself as she focused on expanding her awareness once more, this time without any fear of discovery. Foot by foot, the whole of the school and all its inhabitants became known to her - their dimensions, their minds...their pasts and futures, to an extent.  
  
_< Breathe in, breathe out. Action, reaction, consequence. Feel the event, and predict the echo. A small touch at the right time, in the right way, can have far-reaching results.>_  
  
Taylor saw a substitute, tormented and frustrated by children who could care less for their education, who saw them as an authority figure with no real authority who could be trolled for a brief moment of amusement in an otherwise dreary existence. Taylor saw her love of teaching withering away as her patience frayed, but a small touch elsewhere in the school made the bell ring 30 seconds before it was supposed to...and ten seconds before the substitute snapped at them and set herself down a path towards the same lack of concern or care that plagued the staff of this school.  
  
Taylor saw a young boy with a crutch struggling to load his backpack up one-handed while a small group of guys guffawed at his predicament a few lockers down. Taylor saw his mounting frustration boiling over in the weeks to come, dealing with this every day, until one last straw broke the camel's back and he borrowed his cousin's firearm. Just a few lockers down in the other direction, a small touch to a larger senior boy, and memories of his own ridicule resurfaced. Without any further prompting, he moved to assist the freshman with his books while glaring at the other group, and they backed off. The boy would think of this himself for the next week or so - just enough care to divert the path away from violence.  
  
_< Apathy is death.>_  
  
Taylor saw a first-time user being pressured by his friends into partaking in a harder drug behind the gym bleachers; a deeper look, and his path led to flashing lights and a broken home. a light touch, and his friend became a little over-enthusiastic in sharing, causing the bag of powder to spill all over the floor. The thought of doing coke off dirty linoleum was enough to shift the boy's path elsewhere...for now.  
  
She saw an aspiring athlete, a freshman track runner, frustrated with his own mediocrity. Further down the path, shaved heads, tattoos, and bad influences awaited him; after a moment's hesitation, a light touch brought his sense of fair play to the forefront of his mind. His shame for the path he'd briefly considered mirrored Taylor's own.  
  
_< A moral high ground that nobody both knows you possess and respects you for possessing holds no advantage. You are so invested in this path of negative peace that you willfully blind yourself to the possibility for achieving true justice without the need for intermediaries.>_  
  
_{I'm not having this argument again,}_ Taylor bit back mentally, as her awareness of the school receded. Once it was small enough for her concentration to include moving her own body, she started idly stretching in preparation for a real workout. _{Maintaining integrity might be a logical fallacy, but doing the right thing isn't always logical.}_  
  
_< You refuse to have it again because you know I'm right. Mucking about with the minds of others to make another's life better is okay, but doing so to improve your own lot is somehow selfish? If you found those three had treated another in the manner they treat you, you wouldn't be so hesitant to leap to that victim's defense.>  
_  
Taylor, true to her word, didn't reply, doing push-ups while straining her telekinesis to push and pull the foundation along with her body. It was inordinately difficult to move the entire building even a tiny bit, so her efforts probably weren't even noticeable, but it was getting her used to the strain if nothing else. She could accomplish more tomorrow.  
  
The minutes of silence filling her mind as she exercised her body and powers were more awkward than usual, a resolution from two stubborn people unwilling to back down from their respective positions. Not for the first time, Taylor wondered if there was actually a voice in her head guiding her in the use of her powers or if she really had gone crazy being locked in there for hours on end.  
  
After a little while longer, Taylor's patience was rewarded: _< If you will not listen to reason on an issue so close to your heart, perhaps a discussion of something a bit more distant is an acceptable change of topic?> W_hile the voice was just as stubborn as she was, and in some ways was far more patient, they couldn't stand to be accomplishing nothing. Wasting time spinning wheels abhorred them.  
  
Taylor snorted, and pushed harder at her body to make the workout more strenuous on her physical form. _{I am **not** debuting against Lung.}  
  
<If you would just listen to reason for a moment-->  
  
{Fighting Lung in general is stupid. Having my first fight be with Lung as opposed to somebody else is **suicidal** ,} _Taylor shot back as she hopped to her feet. She began darting around the roof in a simulated beep test, straining her control over her own body with constant back and forths intended to get her used to resisting the excessive Gs her maneuvers might cause during a real battle.  
  
_< If you aren't properly prepared, then yes, fighting any parahuman is risking your life. But there is time yet to prepare for such an altercation. But that's not the issue. You doubt your power, doubt the power of-->_  
  
_{Enough. Sophia's coming up here to check,}_ Taylor cut them off, alarm seeping into her mental tone. She cursed herself for shrinking her awareness so much, she barely had any warning before the roof access door swung open and Sophia strode out. Taylor pushed at the track star's mind to cause her attention to focus everywhere except Taylor, to notice everything except her, and held her mind in that state.  
  
Sophia glanced at the roof and saw the remains of Taylor's meal, as well as her bookbag. She smirked and closed the door behind her. "I know you're here, Hebert," she called out casually, picking up the bag. "The roof's not that big, and it's a long way to the ground. It'll be harder on you if I have to hunt you down." Taylor cursed knowing it was too late to distract Sophia from the bag now that she was focused on it - and holding it, for that matter. Stealing it away was possible, but would be too obvious, she was bound to notice.  
  
_< Erasing this from her mind would not be that difficult if you were to try. A push here, a touch there, and her short-term memory is reset thirty seconds.> _Taylor didn't bother responding, too focused on maintaining stealth at the moment. _< Since you are in no position to make protests, I shall make my position known then: of the factions within this city, there is only one that will never accept you as a member. Your debut will set the standard for your reputation, and aiming for the biggest fish in the pond will at least establish in the minds of others that you thought it was feasible. Which it is.>_  
  
Taylor took up a position hiding behind a vent, keeping Sophia within her awareness as she released her hold on the Stranger effect. _{Unless I die!}_ she shot back. _{Reputation does me no good if I'm dead.}_  
  
_< You're already more than skilled enough to escape if he grows beyond your ability to overpower,>_ they continued, unconcerned. _< And I am convinced that you'll walk away victorious, which will only aid your reputation. Lung is straightforward and often fights alone, which makes him an ideal opponent: facing him instead of some other cape minimizes the factors you must account for, and his power is one that makes him difficult to defeat in a straightforward manner. Defeating him will tell those that hear that you managed to cheat your way to victory over Lung, but not how exactly you did so. That will make them cautious around you, which can be exploited.>_  
  
"I guess if you're really not up here, then there's nothing stopping me from dumping this bag out over the ledge," Sophia called out, striding close to Taylor's hiding place and leaning over the roof edge. Taylor watched, ready to catch the falling objects and divert Sophia's attention away from them so she wouldn't notice the blatant telekinesis.  
  
_< It would be so easy. Just a small push.>_  
  
Taylor grimaced and didn't reply. She felt more than heard the door banged open once again as Emma emerged. "Is she up here?"  
  
"I think so. This is definitely her stuff...or, it was, anyway," Sophia chuckled as the bag spilled its contents over the edge. Taylor managed to catch it all, but Emma was already occupying the girl's attention. "She didn't emerge though...hiding like usual, I guess."  
  
Taylor felt Emma's thoughts whirling and withdrew her awareness, assuredly to the silent scorn of the voice in her head. "Maybe we should head back downstairs, help Madison find her phone," Emma replied after a few moments, but Taylor saw through her deception: Madison's phone was already located, and there was only one easy way back down into the school from here. Once they were down there, Sophia would guard the door while Emma fetched a teacher and they'd get Taylor in even more trouble for being where she shouldn't be.  
  
Sophia chuckled and, after tossing the bookbag over the edge as well, followed Emma back down the stairs. Taylor breathed a sigh of relief before floating her belongings back up to her. She glanced over the edge of the roof.  
  
_< Your mercy towards the Barnes girl is especially vexing.>_  
  
Taylor didn't reply, glancing around with her extended senses to ensure nobody was watching, before she leaped off the roof. She pulled herself upwards with her power, just enough weaker than gravity that she still fell, while strong enough that it was a light landing. She rolled to her feet as she'd practiced a hundred times at home and head for the cafeteria to hide among the throngs feasting there.  
  
_< Head out tonight regardless. You have the weekend to sort out your sleeping schedule after ruining it, and your true debut will be your first cape fight. Even if you don't agree with me about Lung, you must at least admit that your first encounter with another cape will be what sets your reputation. And you must agree that it is better to choose that fight for yourself than it is to have it chosen for you.>_  
  
Taylor nodded to herself, but didn't reply. She'd held back long enough; if she didn't start soon, she might very well end up waiting forever.  
_  
<Good...good...> _the voice replied to her unspoken agreement, tone tinged with something approaching satisfaction more than approval. _< We can discuss such things more tonight then. For now, let's test out your telekinesis a bit further, see if we can get you controlling more light objects at once...>_


	2. Apathy 1.2

Apathy 1.2  
  
In, out.  
  
In, out.  
  
In, out.  
  
The clothes bobbed up and down in time with her breath. With every exhalation, her mind pushed them down, just enough to submerge them in the chemical soup; with every inhalation, they rose once more, their initial white color just a bit darker than it had been before. Despite the assurances she had received as to its safety, she kept her distance from the solution and used the Force to dunk the costume, ignoring for now that she would be wearing the soaking clothes once they dried out.  
  
 _< The end result, temporary half-measure though it may be, will provide you with some measure of protection. It shouldn't be necessary, but if you're betting your life anyway, it's better not to rely solely on the Force...especially given your lack of experience using it in combat.>  
  
{I've been doing well enough focusing on going unseen. Their presence on the roof didn't shake my concentration,}_ Taylor mentally retorted, before shoving the brief surge of anger away to focus on her task.  
  
 _< And yet, observe how the solution has spilled at their passing mention.>_ Taylor cursed as she realized some had splashed onto the floor. _< It is a small wavering - irrelevant to such a small task - but when the stakes are higher, when the threat is more immediate and significant, a small splash will turn into a wave. Do you think getting shot at will be any less nerve-wracking than idly pondering your lot in life?>_  
  
Taylor removed the outfit from the tub and left them hanging in the air, suspended by nothing but willpower. Weeks before, such an attempt would've taken her fifteen minutes and left her a sweating mess, but now it was but a moment's thought. _{It's still only cloth. You can only polish a turd so far.}_  
  
 _< You aren't wrong, and this is no replacement for cloth made from chemically-treated thread, let alone a proper underlay. But...as you lack the tools, materials, and time for such things at the moment...this will suffice, for now.>_  
  
A mental tweak and the cloth was telekinetically wrung above the tub.  
  
 _< This will harden the material enough to turn away some of the more common weapons you'll face. It won't stop a bullet, I'll wager, but it'll be harder to saw through even with a small serrated blade.>_  
  
Taylor finished wringing the cloth out, and reached out towards it hesitantly.  
  
 _< Calm your mind. Remain in control. Do not let your emotions overwhelm you, you're better than that,>_ they instructed in the unyielding tone they reserved for teaching moments. _< Your anger, your frustration, your fear, that are useful for powering your abilities, but depending on them removes your control. Control the flow.>_  
  
Taylor concentrated the swirling feelings within her, the feelings that she had bottled up for over a year, until the dam broke within the locker and her anguish had spilled out everywhere. She took _all_ of it, that mixture of who she was, and she let just a drop of it flow out of her hands through the robe. Where earlier, such a release had burnt a small paper to a crisp, now a lazy bolt of bright blue electricity traveled through every individual strand of the clothing suspended before her. The tiny spark of plasma interacted with the chemical-soaked cloth in ways that, for anyone else, would be impossible to predict let alone guide...but Taylor's understanding of her own immediate future was sufficient to guide the spark into performing the task it had been released to accomplish.  
  
 _< Releasing it all at once would break you. It is the nature of such power. Such deep hatred is inherently self-destructive, for if it would hurt the hated other, what does it matter if it hurts you as well? It is the same hatred that made you wish for death, that those who tormented you may be investigated for murder instead of major pranks.>_  
  
Taylor unraveled the wrung-out costume and straightened it. It was one piece, originally a Halloween costume for teens want to dress as...she forgot the name, some video game assassin or something. It looked different enough without the accessories or the color that she didn't mind the association - she was far more interested in its functionality: long sleeves, a sturdy belt that could hold more than a few items, proper pants, and a large hood with a built-in mask that would cover her nose and mouth. Over the weeks she had altered it, at the voice's direction, with an eye towards mobility and comfort. This chemical treatment was the last step towards making it a proper outfit for an aspiring heroine. _{Then why push me to push her off the roof? To give in to my anger?}_  
  
< _Because I see what you do not. Because you refuse to investigate their futures, willingly blind yourself to the paths of your enemies. And yet it seems you only heed my advice on this subject when it can be misconstrued as a defense of passivity. >  
  
{I don't always listen because you're inconsistent,}_ Taylor retorted as she began donning the costume. _{You advise me against self-destructive action now, and chide me for my lack of combat experience, but we both know you're going to spend the rest of the night trying to convince me to make Lung my first parahuman conquest.}  
  
<You miss the bears worrying about the bees,>_ the voice stated, a slight strain in their mental tone that Taylor assumed to be a touch of frustration. _< External threats like that beast can be mitigated and avoided, even ignored as your mastery of the Force grows. But your emotional weaknesses, the cracks in your psyche, they are the flawed foundation upon which your power is built. This has allowed me to take shortcuts in your training to accommodate the schedule you desired, but it remains...less than ideal. If you will not rid yourself of these pressure points, it is my duty to train you in resisting when they are used against you - a task for which I am perfectly suited in both ability and opportunity.>  
  
{On that we can agree,}_ Taylor replied wryly. She began emptying the tub of the noxious soup, careful to keep a mental eye on her slumbering father.  
  
 _< Clever.>_ Taylor assumed they were being sarcastic. _< In any case, it is merely one more thing in a long list that I must instruct you upon. For now, your first patrol awaits. Collect your things.>_  
  
Taylor crept from the bathroom now that the tub had drained properly, her footsteps once again silent as they had been in the hall despite the wood creaking louder than linoleum clacked. She entered her room and grabbed a few choice items: a flashlight, her pepper spray, and a disposable camera. She tucked them into the pouches on her belt, then took a deep breath. She was finally doing this.  
  
 _< The first step is always the hardest...but you've already taken it when you reached out and touched those suffering at your school. You are already a hero, in some respects. This is just taking it to the next level. You hesitate because you think what you've got isn't sufficient to accomplish much of anything, but I will tell you with absolute certainty that you are wrong. You have the tools necessary to survive, to thrive even, and you will only grow stronger with time. Once you get out there and finally engage in combat with your abilities, you will begin to understand how unfounded your fears were.>  
  
<Come, my apprentice, the night will not wait for us.>_  
  
...  
  
...  
  
Flying would be a wonderful power to learn, Taylor reflected, but running across rooftops without a care in the world wasn't that bad a consolation prize. Her workout routine, her new habit jogging in the mornings, and a little telekinetic push at the edge, and she could soar further than she had any right to. Barely an achievement by parahuman standards, but still.  
  
As she ran, she kept her senses extended much further than she normally did. Usually she focused on maintaining absolute awareness of her surroundings, but she had progressed enough that she could parkour around without such a crutch in place to keep her from taking a wrong step and twisting an ankle or something. In exchange for giving up such a level of detail, for giving up all but a general sense for the minds and feelings of others, she could feel for a few full blocks around her without losing control of her body. In her mind's eye, she had her finger on the pulse of the city flying beneath her feet - to use a metaphor, not enough to fully understand how their thoughts and feelings moved, but enough to detect the motion and general direction. The Force ebbed and rippled as attentions and moods shifted all around her.  
  
 _< Don't focus too directly on what is within your range. What is there is affected by the movements of those beyond. Your range will extend with your power, but using what you know as a way to read that which you do not know...that is a useful skill to train. Even now, you are doing it unconsciously. The Force guides you where you are needed, where you desire to be even if you don't know it yet. Time will lend you the experience necessary to see these signs and read them more intentionally.>_  
  
A brief burst of panic and anger at the eastern edge of her awareness caught Taylor's attention, and she shifted her route to swing around that direction. Arriving, she peered over the edge of the rooftop and observed a small convenience store getting held up by three bald gentleman with bandannas over their faces, with a fourth waiting outside in what could only be the getaway truck. Oh lovely, there was even a confederate flag plastered over the hood just in case their affiliation wasn't already dead obvious.  
  
Taylor reached out with her mind and with a couple quick flicks, turned the keys enough to turn the vehicle off, and disconnected the starter from the battery so turning the key back wouldn't accomplish anything. Even as the driver started to panic, she leapt from her perch - while normally she could only manage maybe 25 feet without losing altitude, the height advantage let her nearly double that distance. Choose just the right time to jump and...  
  
...just after he'd gotten out and was almost out of the way, her full body weight (along with a touch of telekinetic force) slammed into it, closing the door rather forcefully right into the back of his leg. He cried out as he went down, attracting the attention of his friends inside. A slight touch to accentuate his panic, and his fingers slipped uselessly over the latch keeping his weapon secured. It only bought her perhaps a second before his muscle memory would overcome his fear, but a second was long enough for her to get a good shot to his temple and leave him groaning.  
  
By that time, his backup had arrived from inside. Three pieces were pointed in her direction, but Taylor was ready for that. A slight telekinetic block in front of the barrel at the moment the triggers were pulled, just enough to knock the bullet in another direction. With how close she was, it wasn't enough on its own to make them miss her, but she could see in her mind's eye where each deflected bullet would go, and leaning just a little bit further to the left, ducking a little bit more as she bounded towards them, and all three would miss at point-blank range pointed right at her. Before they could get a second shot off, a mental tweak turned the safety on for each of their weapons, and she was on them before they could adjust.  
  
The biggest of the three bore the most scars, and sure enough was the quickest to react. He dropped his weapon and took a stance before swinging at her. His footwork was solid, he was keeping his guard up, but to her senses, he was juuuust too slow. She leaned around the outside of the telegraphed punch, bringing her right wrist up to touch his own just as he was a bit off-balance...while her left hand formed a fist and drove straight into his fully-extended elbow. Perhaps if he didn't have nearly 100 pounds on her, or perhaps one day when she was in better shape, she could pull this kind of move without having to add a bit of oomph through the Force. As it stood, it was still more than enough hyper-extend his elbow.  
  
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could practically hear the cashier inside speaking into a telephone, no doubt calling the authorities, but she wasn't really paying attention. She drove her right hand into his solar plexus, and he wasn't focused enough to keep his stance solid following those two blows. She heard him fall wrong and hit his head on the concrete, but she couldn't focus on that now that it was two-on-one. The one on her left followed the first guy's lead, dropping his weapon to try and engage the lithe girl in fisticuffs, while the other to the right backed up a bit and started leveling his firearm at her again, having taken advantage of her distraction with the first to turn the safety off. She saw her opportunity and took it.  
  
This time, when the thug stepped towards her and swung his fist, she ducked towards the inside of it; rather than attacking him directly, she rushed past him before he could take advantage of her position. She felt more than saw the gunslinger swing his firearm to follow her, and she gave him a sharp telekinetic poke in the eye as well as a tiny touch of pressure on his trigger finger. His aim jerked, the gun went off, and the man on the left had a brand new orifice inconveniently located in his right shoulder - what a shame, his good arm too. She hit the wall with both feet and jumped off, preserving enough momentum to crash into the final gang-banger and send him sprawling. She was quicker to get back on her feet than he was and received a punch each to the nose and throat as punishment.  
  
Taylor stood and surveyed the scene. A quick check of the three thugs robbers gave her some relief: all were injured and unfocused, but none of them were too injured that they couldn't wait a bit for medical care. She wasn't entirely sure if the big guy had hit his head hard enough to get a concussion, but maybe her teacher--  
  
Taylor twisted her whole body _inhumanly fast_ , her hand flicking out and yanking the gun away from the first thug, the driver who she'd forgotten in the aftermath. She heard the shot she'd dodged without thinking impact the store sign behind her - traveling right through where her head had been a fraction of a second before. Her instant of panic nearly escaped her before she reined it in. Instead, she gave him a quick shot of fear, just big enough to be utterly paralyzing for a moment. "Concussion, bullet, or surrender?" she asked in a low monotone. The pale, trembling Nazi didn't move or react, but she felt his relief at the last option presented. "Don't run."  
  
She entered the store to find the cashier still on the phone with...somebody. She went to ask--  
  
 _< PRT, and he already asked.>_  
  
Taylor nodded, both in reply to the voice and in greeting to the cashier. "Four Empire thugs, all injured and waiting. Do I need to remain to make a statement?"  
  
"They'd like it if you...uh, yeah," he replied apprehensively, having been just about to inform her of exactly that and caught off-guard by her question.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for contacting them," Taylor replied, before exiting. She felt a touch of satisfaction to see that all four Nazis were still present, despite having recovered from their beatdown. "I don't have anything to secure you with, so we're just gonna wait for the cops to get here. If you feel like you're not wracking up enough medical bills as it is, feel free to run, I could use a bit more exercise tonight." Her heart wasn't in the threat properly, but her tone didn't reflect that, and sure enough they all stayed put. Silent slurs screamed from their minds, but none of them gained the courage to speak them aloud. She leaned against the store, casually watching the skyline. _{Don't--}  
  
<It only takes one.>  
  
{I know,}_ she growled. It must've shown on her face a bit, because she saw the emotions of the thugs flicker in response. She sighed and clamped down on her feelings.  
  
 _< Mistakes happen. They are a learning experience, as everything else. But they are also a risk. If you are going to insist upon walking this path, you will need the tools to take out trash like this without utterly silencing them. I could-->  
  
{I'm pushing my luck as it is,}_ Taylor huffed. _{Telekinesis won't be difficult to figure out, and eventually my precognitive abilities are going to clash with some Thinker out there and that'll be known. If I go around blatantly messing with people's brain chemistry, making them complacent or unconscious, people are going to put two and two together. What I'm doing now, it's like what you're always talking about - enhancing existing feelings rather than creating them. Creating ripples by touching the surface is easy to hide, but if I just start throwing rocks in...somebody's gonna figure it out.}_  
  
 _< You exaggerate the reaction you would receive.>  
  
{There's a girl right now in the process of getting thrown into super-prison for life just because she used a Master power by accident and has feathers in her hair. No telekinesis, no future vision, no seeming invulnerability, just the ability to influence minds and a tiny physical resemblance. If my reputation ends up being "Simurgh-lite" then it's only a matter of time before the world is against me.}  
  
<The discovery of your abilities is inevitable. You can shape the reaction by choosing to show them through positive usage; that healer girl does well enough despite her power's capacity to become a biotinker, and those have practically as bad a reputation as Masters. If you show it off, and somebody connects the dots, you can become a good example of the power-set. If you hide it, and then they find out...>_  
  
Taylor shifted in place as she heard sirens approaching. _{Biotinkers can do good. Masters that can affect humans aren't heroes like that.}  
  
<Gallant and Glory Girl do well enough.>_  
  
Taylor chuckled. _{You think I'm personable enough to match them?}_ she snarked, as a police car, an ambulance, and a red blur came into view. The latter arrived first, and Velocity stood before her.  
  
"Before anything else, the caller said there were injuries?" he asked in a no-nonsense tone.  
  
She nodded and started pointing out thugs. "Blows to the back of the knee and the temple...hyper-extended elbow and head injury, possibly a concussion...gunshot wound to the shoulder...another head injury and a broken nose." As she was speaking, the emergency vehicles pulled up and began processing the thugs.  
  
Velocity shifted in place, and Taylor could tell he wasn't pleased with those results. "Well it's a solid first showing, although we'll have to talk about appropriate force...I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name?"  
  
She nodded, smiling beneath her mask. "Yes we will...and I didn't say. You can call me Apprentice."


	3. Apathy 1.3

So, this isn't relevant to this fic yet, but it was something I was researching in relation to some events in this chapter, and interestingly enough, Velocity's casual jogging-patrol speed is estimated at ~60 mph assuming x10 compression like he seems to use in the canon fight with Skitter...and in that one scene in Phantom Menace with the droidekas and blast doors, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had their speed estimated to be in the 56-62 mph range. So if you're looking for an idea of how fast Velocity is when he's fighting, that Star Wars scene isn't a bad visual reference. (I think the calc is based on "how far down the hallway they are by the time the droidekas turn to face them", but I don't know for sure.)

Anyway, on with the chapter!

* * *

Apathy 1.3  
  
Velocity paused to take in her answer a moment, and something about him almost seemed to...shift around, to fidget a bit in place. Behind her impassive gaze, Taylor wondered was it was about and reached out to touch his mind - and felt his thoughts moving far faster than she was used to. Such an odd sensa--wait, it stopped.  
  
“Apprentice? Learning your trade from someone more experienced, then?” he said, a slight note of amusement in his tone. Taylor could feel his intentions - both that he was less having a laugh at her as much as trying to lighten the mood a bit, but was also fishing to see if she was already part of a team. She also felt his mind accelerate once more. Was he using his power to get extra time to parse the conversation?  
  
“The name is more a reminder to myself that there’s always more to learn. I’m on my own,” Taylor replied as she hovered around the edges of his consciousness. Velocity nodded slowly as if in agreement, but she half-wondered if he was doing so at the frequency he intended.  
  
Her mental voice chuckled. _< Misleading a hero?>_  
  
_{It’s true from a certain point of view,}_ Taylor shot back, though nothing of the mental conversation showed on her face. _{Besides, it’s not like he’s presenting himself honestly either.}_  
  
“Always more to learn? That a power thing, or a mentality?” Velocity asked.  
  
_< He’s using his extra time to think through his strategy, it’s no less than you should be doing.>_  
  
_{I’m not as fast as him.}_  
  
_< But you can feel what is to come, react to things before they’ve even begun. You could replicate this trick with minimal difficulty, yet you hold back out of misconstrued loyalty to an organization you’ll never join.>_ Taylor shifted minutely, a bit uncomfortable with the idea of such direct manipulation, before mentally cursing as she felt Velocity react mentally, and he shifted away from her a bit.  
  
“Sorry, sorry, don’t mean to pry. Just, seems like a curious choice,” he said apologetically, raising his hands just a touch defensively.  
  
Taylor realized he thought she had been uncomfortable discussing her powers...which she was, but she hadn’t intended to broadcast that discomfort. “No, it’s not that, the name’s unrelated, a personal motto. It’s more that, I’ve got a handful of powers that are--” she mentally cast around for the appropriate phrasing, and almost reflexively scanned her future for the best reactions before shutting that down, “--that is to say, they synergize well, and I’m always looking to pick up new tricks with them. Individually there’s...not much to them.”  
  
_< Perhaps in that they are relatively simple phenomena to explain, but you know he’s going to interpret your statement as a handful of weak powers.>_  
  
_{It’s not a lie,}_ Taylor shot back.  
  
_< No, not quite.>_ Taylor swore it sounded like they approved, and that made her grumpier more than anything.  
  
Velocity nodded, but didn’t relax. “If they mesh well, was...this necessary?” he cast a glance around and waved an arm at the injured thugs - two having their heads checked and one having his bullet wound patched up while officers looked on.  
  
Taylor clued into his meaning immediately. “The end result, at least for now, is that without much personal training I’m the equivalent of a skilled martial artist...at least in terms of speed and power. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fairly confident in my abilities, but each of them was twice my size and packing heat. I favored efficiency over the comfort of criminals,” she finished, perhaps a bit more heatedly than she’d intended. She inexplicably felt him relax slightly as she spoke, and felt uncomfortable reading him to figure out why he reacted so. In the back of her mind, she could practically feel her mentor shaking their head in exasperation.  
  
“That’s a common attitude, when you’re new to the game, especially if your powers are on the lower end. And while I can promise you that you’re more capable than you think…” he paused, and his mind accelerated for a moment before slowing once more. “...let me put it this way: there are a lot of things you might deal with as a hero in this city that are more dangerous than a few gangsters. Maybe this time you were good enough to handle the problem without much risk, but only if you were....efficient. If you’re careful, you can put yourself in that position again and again, taking down criminals without taking huge risks on your part, maybe even without them needing too much medical care. But that that the risks were great enough that you needed to be this rough with them--”  
  
“I can control myself,” Taylor said, keeping her emotions from bubbling through her tone.  
  
_< You can, but frequently choose not to, for whatever reason.>_ Taylor ignored them.  
  
“I’m not saying you can’t,” Velocity replied, his tone more placating to her ear than in his mind; Taylor took a deep breath and relaxed, trying to take in what he had to say more impartially. “And I’m not saying you did a bad job here tonight by any stretch. But...it’s rough out here, especially independent, and especially if you don’t have somebody watching your back. A lot of people with their hearts in the right place, especially kids, end up getting in over their head in their first year. One of our Wards was like that. Shadow Stalker--”  
  
There was grumbling in Taylor’s head, but she tuned it out.  
  
“--was on her own for quite some time, and got in spots of trouble more often than she would’ve liked. Her story at least had a happy enough ending, where she joined a team, and that team has her back. But more often than not, things don’t turn out that happily for the independent. She’s still definitely a lone wolf by nature, and prefers to take the world on by herself, but at least now, she doesn’t have to.”  
  
_< We’re not joining the Protectorate.>_  
  
Taylor didn’t reply mentally. They’d had this conversation a few times, and it was one of the things they unequivocally agreed on: being shackled to the PRT would at best just hold her back from her true potential, and now that she had a proper teacher, the potential social merits were almost all downside. “I appreciate your unbiased concern,” she replied verbally, her tone humorous, “but I think I’m going to decline joining you in marching to the PRT’s drum. I don’t think I’d fit in.” No doubt they’d be less than thrilled with her potential as a Master, especially if she ever got skilled enough to teach others to feel the Force.  
  
Velocity nodded, and didn’t even seem to upset at the refusal. Perhaps he’d given this kind of speech frequently before; it would explain why it wasn’t as peppered with mental pauses as the rest of the conversation. “Perhaps in time, perhaps not. Just felt it needed to be said. But for now...maybe not joining up, but how about teaming up? Night’s still young; I’ve got a good bit of patrol left, and an itch for conversation. Want to tag along?”  
  
Taylor saw what he was doing pretty clearly: he figured eventually something else would happen tonight, and he would have the opportunity to show her how much safer and easier it was taking on powerless thugs with a professional Hero watching her back. Still, she didn’t want to alienate the organization…and the more time she spent around him while he had his power active, the better she might be able to replicate the effect. Even if she could only pull it off mentally, it’d be quite a boon.  
  
“If you think I won’t slow you down.”  
  
Taylor tried to convince herself the positive vibes she was feeling from Velocity were respect rather than amusement, that her attempt to salvage her first impression was accomplishing something, impressing the veteran hero as they followed his patrol route. It wasn’t working.  
  
_< An unexpected result from the master of self-deception.>_ The ever-present commentary of the peanut gallery in Taylor’s head did her no favors either.  
  
“NotmanypeopledothiswellkeepingupwithmewhenIgetgoing,” Velocity said, his motormouth whispers only really audible and legible due to her efforts to remain aware of her surroundings and future. “Powershelpbutyouhavegoodrunningform.”  
  
Taylor focused on keeping her breathing steady. The bastard wasn’t even all-out jogging, and yet she was barely keeping up even by pushing herself. Running along rooftops was fun, and a good workout, but it was at her own pace at least; this was far beyond what she had ever tried on her own. Exhilarating, to push past the limits she set for herself, but...she’d set them for a reason. Taylor half-suspected that they might well be breaking the speed limit if they were in a school zone or something, but she knew that wasn’t impressive by Mover standards. She was slowing down his patrol in some pathetic attempt to prove herself.  
  
_< Cease your wallowing. You will improve in time. Your endurance, your speed, they will grow with practice. You should push yourself like this more often...although perhaps not when there are more important things to conserve your energy for.>_ Taylor kept her thoughts to herself even though she itched to chew them out since they weren’t even the one having to run forever just to keep up.  
  
She realized Velocity had been quiet for a moment. Before she got the breath to ask, he was speaking again, at that nigh-incomprehensible pace: “Silentalarmreported. Oneofthewarehousesatthedocks. Uptodealingwithsomemorerobbers?”  
  
Taylor nodded, her resolve renewing now that they had a destination in mind rather than merely running around aimlessly. The dynamic duo changed direction, him smoother than her, and they began traveling towards the docks. Velocity was rattling off something into his earpiece, occasionally pausing his speech to listen, but Taylor decided to conserve herself and withdrew her awareness from him.  
  
_< I shall add eavesdropping on law enforcement to the list of lines you inexplicably won’t cross, for future reference.>_  
  
Taylor scowled, but appreciated the distraction from her burning muscles. _{Staying ahead of his speech enough to parse it, with enough time to hear how they respond, would just exhaust me faster, which you were just on my case about anyway. Even more so because I can’t properly hear what they’re saying so I’d have to interpret it from how he reacts to it, or I could just wait to see if he informs me on account of it being something I need to know.}_  
  
_< And if he doesn’t?>_ Their tone had an odd note to it - not challenging or angry, almost as if they were merely entertaining notions. Taylor’s frustration simmered - easy to remain level-headed when you weren’t gasping for breath with every step. _< Don’t blame me for your desire to show off, and don’t take my words on this matter for scorn in general. You took a reputational risk going on this patrol, and while your risk assessment could use some fine-tuning, that can only occur if you aren’t avoiding them on principle. Making bad decisions is how you get to a point in your life where you reliably make good decisions.>_  
Taylor pursed her lips and didn’t reply, preferring instead to focus on soldiering on through her growing fatigue and speeding up her pace. Velocity would already be there if he wasn’t escorting her, after all; she may as well do a better job carrying her own weight. Besides, she was right, there was probably nothing to worry about.  
  
"You didn’t say it was ABB," she said flatly, barely dodging a punch. She felt more than saw Velocity give her a shrug as he effortlessly leaned away from a swinging pipe. _{Neither did you, for that matter,}_ she added mentally, a not-insignificant tone of accusation creeping into her mental voice - not entirely unwarranted, given their recent arguments on a tangential subject.  
  
_< I have not deigned to scry the affiliation of the next group of unimportant criminals you encounter, either. I am more interested in analyzing your technique for future practice.>_  
The two young men that had apparently been on lookout hadn’t seen them coming, but had been hidden well enough that neither of the heroes had seen them either; . And what the thugs lacked in forewarning they made up for with volume, hollering their heads off. She wasn’t bothering to feel their minds enough to translate their words; tone and context clues were sufficient, and she had more pressing matters to devote her attention to.  
  
_< Perhaps if you didn’t push yourself, you wouldn’t have been caught off-guard?>_  
  
_{If I didn’t push myself, we wouldn’t be here at all,}_ Taylor replied, ducking under a wide haymaker before delivering a sharp blow to the man’s jaw. He crumpled to the ground just as his friends were emerging from the warehouse. She expanded her senses briefly, and became aware of a few important things: there were a whole lot more inside, ten of whom were coming to investigate armed with various weapons, while the remaining five increased the pace at which they were loading up a truck with various boxes of tools and construction supplies.  
  
“Ten incoming, five stealing,” she warned her ally in a clipped tone. He didn’t reply, save to finish tying the other man’s shoelaces together and run his length of pipe-turned-improvised-club to the other side of the lot. She could feel his mind, he was accelerating far more than he had earlier; apparently she wasn’t the only one wanting to show off tonight. “Was that necessary?” she taunted using his words from earlier, and he just chuckled - the sound sent a chill up her spine for some reason, but she suppressed it and focused her awareness on the men and women spilling out of the warehouse.  
  
As Velocity rushed forward so fast only she had time to react, she touched each of the minds present and gave them just a hint of hesitation - just enough that before they could start pulling triggers, they no longer had any loaded ammo. Taylor surged forward in his wake, focusing down those that were trying to pull out new magazines from various pockets. Swift sharp blows to the ribs and jaws were enough to keep them distracted, but now they were encircled by limbs and angry faces.  
  
Taylor called one of the lengths of pipe to her hand and settled into a defensive stance. She swayed around the slower combatants’ clumsy blows as if she were a reed caught in the wind, and responded with tight, controlled movements of her own weapon to push away their attacks or to knock them off-balance for a moment. At the edge of her senses, she felt the one thug remaining in the warehouse pull out a cell phone and strike up conversation - once more, beyond her linguistic abilities to understand, and so she refocused. She saw Velocity circling the group looking for a good opportunity to slip in, so she grabbed at one of the limbs flailing around her and used their momentum (with a touch of telekinesis to help) to send them over her shoulder and into one of her comrades.  
  
It was enough invested effort, and a slow enough execution if she was being honest, that one nearly got a good shot at her back with a knife before Velocity knocked it away from her. Taylor couldn’t contain it any longer and let out a laugh as she danced around weapons and fists without a care in the world. It was so much easier when she didn’t have to worry about getting shot, when there was somebody watching out for her.  
  
_< Do not discount the foolish and unskilled so easily. The hardest thing in the world to predict is an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing.>_  
  
_{I’m not really in a talking mood right now.}_ Taylor flipped over one of the few women in the group and got a few good shots into the back of her hips and knees, sending her to the ground. _{I’m not saying I want to work with the Protectorate exclusively, but going two-on-twelve is far more efficient than one-on-four like I did earlier.}_  
  
_< Crushing insects is easier with a friend, but makes it far more likely that somebody will get bitten. Do not lose sight of your situation: you are fatigued and surrounded. You will make it out, but this is far from over.>_  
  
Taylor grimaced as a knife punctuated the voice’s point by getting close enough to almost knick her, and took stock of their situation: she and Velocity were backed against a wall by the gangbangers, holding their own with five of the ten on the ground, but boxed in is a bad situation for a Mover. Taylor had other options she could resort to if she needed to escape, but Velocity...he was a professional, and not really her problem if she needed to bolt.  
  
_< Velocity is not your problem, no. Your problem is the four you lost track of in the warehouse because you couldn’t focus on more than this fight. You have blinded yourself to parts of your own future,>_ the voice continued, even as Taylor began working to put gangsters on the ground for easy cuffing by her ally.  
  
Taylor grit her teeth. _{You don’t know that’s going to be a prob--}_  
  
The Force screamed at her and she ducked into a low crouch, watching as a blade swung just above her - a blade that hadn’t been there a moment before. As the knife passed, she used the crouch to build up a jump to send her flying out of the circle of thugs ready to face down their friends...and then froze for a split second as she processed what she was seeing.  
  
Oni Lee.


	4. Apathy 1.4

So...thus far I’ve mostly been writing this fic in chronological order, but I’ve always had certain scenes semi-writing themselves in my mind for the months I’ve had this idea, and the actual process of writing out the whole chapters were more or less filling in the gaps that I hadn’t previously imagined. So originally I thought Chapter 3 would be...this chapter, but then one of the gaps filled in by Chapter 2 was having her meet Velocity after her first fight...and then I decided rather than skipping to after the Protectorate conversation (since a lot of interesting stuff could happen in that conversation), I’d write it out and it would serve as an excuse for why she was getting into a fight with Oni Lee (which is one of the events I’d had in my head for months). But then the Velocity stuff got longer and longer - advancing by maybe 100 words a day for a month or so, until finally I got to the Oni Lee part...and then 3000 words just kinda fell out of my head and onto the page and suddenly the chapter was twice the length of either previous chapter.  
  
So instead I split them up, posted the Velocity stuff, then spent a couple days polishing the Oni Lee fight. And...here we are. Oh also, one of the scenes here is inspired by a bit of Lee's backstory in LD1449's fic "Reconciliation"  
  


* * *

Apathy 1.4  
  
As Taylor stared, trying to think of how to approach this fight, she felt a presence pop into existence just behind her and to the left. She lashed out a blind kick at waist height as the Oni Lee in front of her faded to ash, but was thwarted by what felt like a cup. The kick provide the momentum for her to cartwheel away from his retaliatory slash, but another Lee awaited her at her destination, along with one of the still-uncuffed thugs.  
  
Velocity made his presence known once again, distracting Lee away while leaving Taylor to mop up the four remaining thugs on her own - none armed with anything truly threatening, but she was already starting to seriously flag.  
  
_< We will work on your endurance in the weeks to come. For now, practice economy of motion.>_  
  
Taylor gave a small nod and took stock of her positioning: ahead and to the left, two men were coming at her, one with brass knuckles and the other unarmed; behind her a ways, the two Movers were duking it out, but more immediately the one remaining Asian woman was swinging a pipe at her head. The last thug was to her right, trying to avoid her periphery and approach sneakily with a telescoping rod.  
  
Taylor slid her left foot far back, before locking it down with a bit of Force. She ducked down, avoiding the pipe, and swung her right foot around in a wide arc, tripping the woman. She released her hold on herself and bounded forward, now facing the one that had been trying to be sneaky, but now the ambush was turned on its head and he was the one left flat-footed. He didn’t react quite quickly enough: while the rod flicked in her direction, a gentle lean left it nothing to catch but air, and a quick blow to the side of the jaw sent him stumbling. She gave a brief touch to his mind to shake his concentration and then pulled the rod from his briefly-slacked grip.  
  
Taylor continued applying the gentle pressure she’d used to pull the weapon in the same direction, adding the force of her own swing to it to send the end of the baton hurtling towards some point behind her - as she turned to the left, her body twisted down and to the right, avoiding the incoming fist while the end of the baton slammed into the man’s face. He went down screaming. She turned her momentum into a roll to her right, and popped back up to her feet. As she eyed the one remaining ABB, she took a moment to appreciate how _right_ the lightweight, swishy weapon felt in her hand. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the closest yet she’d felt to wielding a proper saber.  
  
_< It cannot compare, but that’s irrelevant right now. Don’t get distracted.>_  
  
Taylor leveled the baton in a duelist’s stance, ready to react to whatever move the man made. He hesitated a moment, before he set off at a dead run straight at her, feet pounding the ground as he built up momentum. She grimaced - even if she hit him, he’d bowl her over. But if she could redirect him...she shifted her stance and dropped the baton, just in time for him to reach her. Her hands shot out to redirect his momentum up and over her, and with a combination of Judo technique and Force application, he went flying overhead to land on the one with the glass jaw who’s weapon she’d stolen.  
  
Before she had a moment to celebrate her victory, her world turned to pain. Her senses shut off in response and she was left nearly blind and deaf to the world, so overwhelmed were her eyes and ears.  
  
Her auditory overload did not affect her ability to ‘hear’ the voice in her head: _< Flashbang, but it’s irrelevant. Your eyes deceive you anyway. Find him with the Force, and show him the error in thinking you defeated.>_  
  
Taylor closed her eyes, ignoring the unending afterimages haunting her retinas, and extended her mind out in time and space. She felt Velocity, prone and groaning on the ground some 50 ft away; she felt the engine of the truck, still thrumming along and waiting to transport its load to the ABB’s destination; she felt, at the edge of her senses, someone watching the fight without getting involved.  
  
_< Focus on the fight, not the onlookers. Find Lee.>_  
  
Taylor felt one of him pop into existence next to her, leaning down to grab the baton - a casual move done assuming she had no idea he was there. She corrected his mistake, lashing out with a Sparta kick to the face. Satisfaction filled her as she turned the momentum of the kick into a backwards roll; she was fairly certain she’d felt his nose break.  
  
In hindsight, she realized she’d screwed up letting Velocity handle Lee; the hero’s advantage was speed, but even at his best he rarely moved fast enough that the eye couldn’t track him, and Oni Lee could always appear just ahead of where he was going. The villain’s advantage was surprise, and while Velocity’s reactions were significant, Oni Lee was experienced enough to take advantage of even that slight window of opportunity. But he didn’t have the element of surprise against Taylor - every time he started thinking about teleporting away, she could practically feel him appear where he was going before he’d even left.  
  
He was far from incompetent though: when he began realizing she knew when he was coming and was fast enough to react to him, he switched to engaging from ranged, using his teleportation to keep out of her reach while he peppered her with bullets. She didn’t have the energy to force it from his hands at such a distance, and deflecting was sapping her reserves faster than she intended.  
  
_< Make him come to you.>_  
  
Taylor was hit by a flash of inspiration and abandoned the game of cat-and-mouse to enter the warehouse where it had all started. Even as she felt Oni Lee following her, she entered the vehicle and stole the keys, turning off the truck and leaving all the stolen supplies sitting right where they’d left it. As she bounded back towards the door, the demon appeared in front of her, and she didn’t have the energy to deflect this time.  
  
A searing pain shot through her, like she’d been stabbed through the shoulder with a hot poker. For the smallest fraction of a second, it shook her concentration - had Lee stuck around a bit longer before 'porting away, the clone might've lasted long enough to get a second shot, but he'd long since learned his lesson about giving her that much time to react to his real body. Anger and fear welled up in her, though: he now knew she couldn’t react to stop him if he shot at her from point-blank.  
  
She rushed from the building, barely dodging another shot from a distant rooftop, and cursing that her plan had perhaps worked a bit too well and given Lee awareness of her waning reaction time. Frustration welled up in her just as she felt him about to ‘port in directly behind her. She spun and threw out a hand to...to make him stop. At the very second he popped into existence before her, ready to send an attack her way she couldn’t dodge, she beat him to the punch.  
  
Razor-thin bolts of lightning flowed for a split second from the ends of her fingers, but almost immediately she realized she’d made a serious mistake as several of them arced around her own body. Her muscles were shocked and became unresponsive for a moment, the bullet wound in her shoulder was cauterized on both ends, and very briefly as one touched her head she could swear she tasted the color pink. When the taste faded all she felt was pain, all over her body, like nothing she’d ever experienced - even the dregs of her power, so focused on hurting, were _dangerous_ in a way she could never have imagined.  
  
And then pain turned to panic: in slow-motion, past the stars flashing in her eyes, the malevolent teleporter’s body was blasted back...back...back...headfirst into a fire hydrant. With the benefit of her extended senses, she both heard and felt a web of cracks radiate across his skull from the point of contact. She pushed away the aches of her own body, muscles twitching randomly as a result of her own foolishness, and staggered over to where Lee lay limp as a marionette with its strings cut.  
  
_< Focus. This situation can be salvaged.>_  
  
Taylor heard, but barely listened. _{I...I didn’t mean…}  
  
<Focus,>_ they repeated, their tone unyielding. _< You’re hyperventilating. Take control of yourself and remember your medical training. Focus your awareness, identify existing issues, and guide the Force into facilitating restoration. Save your feelings for when you’ve fixed him, or he will be truly lost.>_  
  
Taylor nodded, for once grateful of her mentor’s tendency to try and take control of the situation, and her awareness shrunk until it enveloped nothing more than herself and the villain dying before her. She was immediately struck by just how far gone he already was. Her lightning was weak, and more than a few bolts had reflected back onto her, and yet his nervous system had sustained immeasurably more damage than her own. His skull had far more cracks and fractures than she’d ever practiced mending in herself. His internal organs hadn’t taken well to the sudden acceleration, nor the abrupt stop, and there was internal bleeding all over the place. Even his heart, stubborn muscle though it may be, was gradually slowing down even as she watched.  
  
Taylor got to work, coaxing flesh and bone to mend beneath her fingertips. Blunt force trauma was soothed, bleeding scrapes and cuts began to clot properly, she even restarted his heart once with some more...carefully applied electricity, at her mentor’s encouragement. As the final piece of the puzzle, the shattered skull, began retaking a more appropriate shape, strands gradually disappearing from the web of cracks, she breathed a sigh of relief and fell to her knees. It wasn’t perfect; his skull was still pretty fractured, and he’d be dealing with aches and pains for days unless he got better treatment, but her efforts were enough that he’d survive this ordeal. Healing always took a lot out of her, and he had been nearly dead when she started; even now, he was more “stable” than “healthy” - not for a lack of effort on her part, she was just running out of reserves. She needed a break, a chance to rest tonight, even just a few minutes to meditate or someth…  
  
...Taylor flinched and looked over his body once more with her extended senses. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Could she have missed some significant injury in her haste to fix the big structural problems his body faced? As she looked deeper, she found the problem, and could barely suppress her feelings.  
  
_< Brain damage,>_ came the voice in a detached tone, as if this were no more serious than the practice they’d done on careful self-inflicted injuries. Taylor distantly remembered asking them about it once, and receiving a non-answer about keeping one’s head in a firefight being integral, as if that was something specific to force healing. _< His body is whole - unhealthy, but whole - but his mind is a mess. Much like a library whose foundation has been repaired, but with no care given to the books within that have all burned to a crisp. Mentally, he is little more than base instincts and motivations; all the rest is as ash.>_  
  
Taylor didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply.  
  
_< The job is not finished.>_  
  
“I can’t fix this,” Taylor whispered, half to herself.  
  
_< Not with that attitude. The job is not finished, child. Are your efforts?>_  
  
“...”  
  
_< Then do as I say. Focus the entirety of your mind upon his - let go of perceiving yourself, at least for the time being. Perhaps in the future…>_ they started, before yanking themself back off whatever tangent had distracted them. _< The currents of the Force have been shaped by this man, by his desires and experiences, as they are by all they touch. You’re going to explore his past, find a point where he was most in-tune with the cosmos, and use it to guide the Force in restructuring his mind. Do you understand?>  
  
{...I understand. But I’ve never...how will…}_ Taylor hesitated.  
  
_< I will guide you, as best I can. He isn’t lost yet.>_ Their conviction bolstered Taylor’s own, and she dove into the ashes of Oni Lee’s past without another thought.  
  


* * *

The docks fell away. The warehouse fell away. The distant sound of sirens, the feeling of hard concrete bruising her knees, the sight of the once-broken man lying before her, all of it fell away until there was nothing but her, in a desert of...id? Memory?  
  
_< Don’t distract yourself categorizing the experience. Focus on the task at hand.>_  
  
Taylor drifted between memories that felt more like faded dreams: like watching old cartoons, but the linework was shaky, the faces were blurry, and all the human feeling that should’ve been there was muted. The consequences of her rash actions, no doubt.  
  
_< Focus. Look deeper.>_  
  
They were all like that, though. It was like trying to capture sand by hand, it always slipped through her fingers when she tried to use it to anchor him. She feared for a moment that nothing was left untouched in this dunes and wastes. She began digging down, deeper beneath the top layer of ash and dust, her pace increasing alongside her desperation. Forgotten birthdays, distant friendships, endless boring lessons of a youth long-gone…and then she hit something solid. Something enormous. She leaned in closer to see--  
  
_The first thing she noticed was the smell, a mixture of sewage and death. It was dark - inside, somewhere, but no lights overhead and stormy weather outside. Moans and sometimes screams reached her ears, but they didn’t seem to bother her - she wondered idly if that was a good or bad thing. Occasional flashes of lightning and the flashlight gripped between her chin and chest that was illuminating the bloody wound she was busy treating, as well as the flooded linoleum floor below her. Her thoughts stilled as she realized both that the person was most assuredly a cape, and that she didn’t recognize them even the slightest bit.  
  
An enormous crash akin to what she sometimes heard on the news when a building was being demolished, caused her to flinch, but the twitch didn’t reach her steady hands or interrupt the work they were doing. If this was appreciated by her patient, though, she couldn’t tell - they appeared dead, as far as she could tell, and yet still she worked onwards to stem the bleeding and patch up the wounds.  
  
Behind her and to the left, every now and then a soft **pop** was heard, and another cape she didn’t recognize would appear with still another cape. An unseen assistant would guide them to a gurney and move them elsewhere in the room; occasionally, when Taylor finished treating whoever it was in front of her, they would bring her another wounded cape as if nothing had been accomplished from her efforts. Taylor would occasionally glance around and see several others like herself achieving similar success: perhaps fifty doctors and nurses were rushing around this gymnasium-turned-field-hospital, but always there seemed to be twice as many wounded waiting as being tended, and still more arrived.  
  
An unearthly roar sent a shiver down her spine, and she renewed her efforts. For what seemed like hours she moved from one felled cape to the next, wading through dirty, knee-deep water all the while. Once, when her feelings got the better of her and her hands started shaking from the stress, a nurse guided her over to where the cape from earlier was arriving every several seconds, and put Taylor on duty pushing on triage duty determining who was in most dire need of help.  
  
When the teleporting cape reappeared, handing Taylor some poor sod missing his legs from the knees down, she got a brief look at his eyes behind his mask...it was like he was dead on his feet, no spark of life or hope burning inside him. There was only the job that had to be done, couldn’t **not** be done, couldn’t be done right by anyone else. Taylor felt like she’d never empathized more with anyone in her entire life. And then...she must have fainted for a moment. Seems the cape did as well, and was recovering alongside her. He gave her a strange look before he disappeared, back to doing his duty.  
  
Determination surged in her chest. If he could keep going, then so could she! She turned and...things became hazy for awhile. She seemed to be losing time, moving from one patient to the next without seeming to travel between them, assisting all of the familiar faces spread around the gymnasium. She felt tired, so tired, but she pushed onward, for despite her second wind, there was still always more to be done - but she took solace in the fact that, while her hands never tired and she could feel exhaustion and mental fatigue creeping in, she could see the line of untreated capes growing smaller and smaller, despite how they continued to pour in. She was giving her all and it was making a difference!  
  
<This will do,>_ came a familiar voice within her head, and it all faded away from her - the dead and dying, the rotten water, the storm and fight going on outside, all of it vanished from her senses even as the memory of it was seared into her mind. _< You have felt the core of this moment. Use your hold on it, and guide the Force in reshaping sand and ash into solid memory. Make him into who he should be.>_  
  
Taylor remembered her task and began the painful work of rebuilding Oni Lee’s mind; whenever her own exhaustion caught up with her, she felt the firm guidance of her mentor bolstering her efforts without request or comment, and she was grateful for the assistance. Sand flew around her, packing together to form great monuments, pillars and pyramids and temples connected by a maze of streets and alleys between them. As the ashes passed her, she caught glimpses into other moments of his life, but this did little more than give her an impression of the tapestry it formed: a life filled with violence and death, both witnessed and performed, each easier and less guilt-inducing than the last. It gave her a tight feeling in her chest. A...burning feeling?  
  
_< You’ve done an excellent job; I believe he is himself again. But we need to leave his mind now, Apprentice.>  
  
{Leave?}_ Taylor asked, her own mental voice sounding distant and weak.  
  
_< Yes, leave. You’re being strangled.>_ Taylor swayed a bit, then felt the presence grab at her and pull her away from...out of…  
  
Taylor snapped back into reality, and all the pains of her own body came back to her: her fried nerves, the sharp sting of the cuts she’d received, the fatigue seeping into her bones...but also a tight pressure around her throat, and a deep burning in her lungs that begged for air. Above her, the demon stared down at her, his arms extending down to her neck, solid and unyielding as if he’d erected them as pillars dedicated to her demise.  
  
“What did you do to me?!” came his voice, hoarse and gravelly from disuse.  
  
Taylor processed his words, brain moving sluggishly. After a moment, she managed to spit out “I...did...no...harm.”  
  
Oni Lee recoiled as if burned, taking two staggering steps back from her, and she took in oxygen like only those on the brink of death can. Her chest heaved in and out, and the cloud of confusion in her mind slowly began to clear. There was no comment from the voice. When Taylor finally ceased hyperventilating, she glanced at Lee, and saw a haunted look in his eyes...and a familiar spark of determination. Before she could say anything, her exhaustion finally overcame her, and the world faded to black.


	5. Apathy 1.C

Apathy 1.C  
  
_Click._  
  
The video began. The footage was of poor quality, a combination of the camera’s inherent quality, as well as the distance, limited lighting, and unprofessional nature of the person recording. Even so, the vantage point was significant to get a solid feel for the flow of the fight, even to the untrained eye...and Coil’s was not.  
  
“She’s taking care of herself, I can tell you that much. Either her power gave her a serious tune-up or she’s spent a lot of time getting a solid foundation in MMA.”  
  
Of course, going over the video with a fine-toothed comb to determine little details of the target’s capabilities would be the work of days, maybe even weeks for even a team of professionals. The forum thread where he’d found the video had enough comments to assure him the internet hivemind had already convinced itself of a half-dozen unsound theories as to what was really going on here. Fortunately, the vague guessing of armchair cape geeks, or even the methodical analysis of a PRT evaluation team was unnecessary for one such as him. He had a far more competent guesser at his beck and call.  
  
“It’s not proprioception, she’s actually reacting to things before they happen. Might be more evidence of solid martial arts training, if she already has an idea of how they’re gonna swing before they do - I know I’ve seen Grue pull moves like that more than once - but it might also be a sign she’s got a bit of combat precog up her sleeve.”  
  
Idly, he checked the thread to see what theories were flying around. Sure enough, the combination of her reaction times, moving small objects at a distance, her parkour and acrobatics speed, and even the lightning blast had people poking at the idea of a very precisely-controlled but overall weak aerokinesis package. Some less informed individuals thought she might be Stormtiger’s daughter, and were advising people to be on the lookout for a new Empire cape. As if the Empire wouldn’t announce a new cape on their roster. As if they’d let her go patrolling with a Protectorate member. As if...well, perhaps the forum at large didn’t know of the earlier confrontation with the nazi rabble, but still the first two should’ve given them enough of a clue.  
  
“Definitely combat precog. She had no idea Lee was there, but still started dodging his swipe before he’d even popped in. Hmm...she let Velocity handle Oni Lee, even though she had to know she was more suited for him. Deference to authority, or not wanting to risk herself? Hmm, touch of both...no, more hero worship than deference. That’s a pedestal in need of breaking.” She paused a moment, considering the footage. “Her confidence in her own abilities varies a lot. Underestimates them sometimes, but giddy at their efficacy. Supports the grab-bag theory; common mindset, missing how the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Points to this being early in her career, maybe even first night out. Recent trigger, or spent time preparing...”  
  
His eyes narrowed at her patronizing tone. He didn’t need her going over basic explanations of common concepts in their line of work. And he certainly didn’t need her needling him to provoke a reaction.  
  


* * *

  
_Click_  
  
“Grab-bag including combat precognition. Ignore that for the moment, and give me an idea of how she’s manipulating things from a distance.”  
  
As the video began again, Coil briefly wondered if a user from a more affluent background would’ve provided better data, but dismissed the possibility quickly; they’d been selected not for the quality they could provide, but for the discretion inherent to their assistance. A kid with a real future just going for a 3am stroll through the docks would be noticed by people who cared about him. Nobody cared about this fellow. Even so, the low quality vexed Calvert something fierce, but he consoled himself with the knowledge it was a compromise born of necessity.  
  
“Simple telekinesis, focused more on precision than power. Hmm...not material restricted...no, that one was a good bit stronger…”  
  
He’d learned of the ABB’s coming construction project just a week before they’d intended to rob him blind. Not that they knew they were robbing him, of course; had they known, it would make things more complicated, as it so often was when gangs clashed. But if they were just robbing a company, they wouldn’t suspect cape involvement unless he was very sloppy, and Coil was nothing if not intensely methodical about playing things close to the chest.  
  
“She can trade off power for control. Mostly that amounts to either enhancing her strikes or deflecting away bullets. So effectively she can switch between a low-power Shaker and a low-power Brute in that regard.  
  
“Something concrete, please. Something useful.”  
  
She shifted, probably rolling her eyes, but he brushed it off. Just one more thing to punish her for later. “Shaker power doesn’t have much range...but it combos with what she’s...okay so the Thinker power also only reaches so far, but it goes further than the Shaker power. She knows when Lee’s coming, but doesn’t know where he goes when he’s gone.”  
  
Coil nodded, making a note elsewhen - the Undersiders couldn’t take advantage of that, but Trickster could. That combined with other conclusions so far indicated the Travelers would be better for engag--  
  
“Oh hell, she just keeps grabbing, huh? Minor master power at play, she’s triggering their adrenal glands. Inducing fear response? Body control? No, mix of both. Combat precog doesn’t have to work as hard, she’s inducing instinctive reactions in them, makes them more predictable.”  
  
Elsewhen, he made a note of the new path of inquiry.  
  


* * *

  
“Some footage of a new cape in action came up on PHO. Preliminary analysis indicates she’s a grab-bag; short-range combat precog, telekinesis Brute/Shaker switch, and some kind of Master power. Focus on the latter for now.” She nodded along, not that her input was necessary on that point.  
  
_Click._  
  
He’d been planning to install cameras initially in the warehouse, but their sudden addition might tip off Lung to potential moles in his ranks, and Coil prided himself on staying far more informed than his supposed competition. After all, this was hardly the only information he’d used against the dragon tonight.  
  
“I can see the range limit on the Thinker and Shaker bits. Master power looks like it’s got a similar limitation. Needs them to be in Thinker range to affect them? No, Thinker range is wider, needs them to be closer…”  
  
So instead, he’d positioned some Merchant wannabe on stakeout, simultaneously putting the lad in his debt while getting some...well, not _good_ footage, but passable footage. And then tomorrow morning, the theft would become apparent to Fortress Construction and additional security would be recruited, giving him some means of putting leverage on those seeking such employment, which meant more eyes and ears on the ground deep in Lung’s territory.  
  
“She’s enhancing what they’re already experiencing, mostly. Small changes are easier than big changes. Shaker power getting weaker...hmm...maybe they’re all connected? Connected to her stamina reserves. That’s why she’s getting in shape even though her powers can do the heavy lifting, and that’s why she’s getting worse as it goes on. Mental tweaks turning fear to panic, or anger to rage…” she winced. “Getting a bit light-headed here, boss.”  
  
“You’ve barely seen anything,” he retorted.  
  
“Figuring out the Shaker stuff is simple, it’s visible. You could probably calc it by hand. Figuring out what’s going on in their heads is rough, even for me.” His ire raised at her talking back to him. She should really know better by now.  
  
The video went on, with little more insight from her on the Master power; once it boiled down to Apprentice and Oni Lee, she wasn’t affecting minds much, it seemed. She ducked into the warehouse, beyond the reach of the cameraman, giving Coil a moment to consider what else he wanted to learn about her this time around while the fight reached its climax.  
  
“Oh man. If she’s a grab-bag, she’s scored the jackpot. You sure she’s not a Trump just pulling new powers out of her ass?”  
  
Coil actually hadn’t considered that  
  
ludicrous possibility. The powers had good synergy, but none were individually that impressive, the hallmark of a solid grab-bag cape. She’d have to be faking incompetence well enough to fool him; more likely, Tattletale was getting false positives from overuse.  
  
“The lightning isn’t that impressive a Blaster power. No doubt it has a similar range limi--”  
  
“I’m not talking about--” His eye twitched as she interrupted him, but once more he let it  
  
no, he’d let too much disrespect go unaddressed thus far, and he was dropping this timeline anyway.  
  
“Wait! No, you don’t have to--”  
  
With practiced ease, Coil drew his firearm and aimed for center of mass.  
  


* * *

  
_Click._  
  
“New cape, grab-bag. I want a physical description, paint me a picture with words.” She nodded along, but once again her cooperation was a foregone conclusion; she’d done so a half-dozen times now, and would do so another half-dozen times, or more, until he was satisfied.  
  
“Throwing out the unwritten rules, cool, cool...no skin off my nose if you die, I guess. Let’s see…”  
  
The fight went on for a few quiet moments, as she merely observed Apprentice’s twisting, turning form. “Costume’s a bit baggy on her, but you can see the curves of her body now and then. She’s thin but in good shape, not really filling things out...too tall for middle school, too gangly for college, probably high school age. She’s got good fighting form, but nothing on Grue; either she’s recently started training, or her power gave her a little tune-up. Both? Both. She’s definitely getting training from someone who knows what they’re doing.”  
  
Elsewhen, Coil made a note to cross-reference whatever physical description he got with local dojos and gyms. It wasn’t uncommon to get powers and want to combine them with kung fu or jiu jitsu or whatever, just more of the same power fantasy such kids could suddenly indulge in. Got more than a few of them caught.  
  
“Caucasian, obvious. Can’t tell eye color from this, no real indicators, but the hood’s baggier than the rest. Hair’s long, probably voluminous or curly or both. In a few of the closer shots you can kinda see a bit poking out, but it’s hard to tell color beyond she’s definitely not blond...maybe a very dirty blond, but more likely some darker brown.”  
  
“What can you tell me about her mental state?” he asked, watching as the girl ducked into the warehouse with Oni Lee at her tail.  
  
“Thin and tall, baggy store-bought costume hiding basically everything...she’s trying to not associate her identities, but it’s less for protection and more for..escapism. Low self-esteem, probably introverted. Probably the type to wear glasses, so maybe she’s using contacts right now? Inexperienced, so this is her first night out, and she’s working alongside the Protectorate, but they don’t do those all the time. Velocity’s feeling her out, wouldn’t do that if she was joining up, so she’s not. Problems with authority, maybe? Or maybe problems with being a Ward? Uncomfortable with groups of peers, prefers working...alone? No…”  
  
He nodded expectantly. No doubt Velocity had given her some speech about how bad the odds were for independents; even if she wasn’t eager to join up with the PRT, she was still likely wishing she had someone watching her back. It was just common sense.  
  
“Open to recruitment?”  
  
“...maybe. She’s effectively a low-level brute engaging normals in melee, that always leads to vigilantes being rough, and PRT can’t go easy on her if she’s not gonna toe the line as an independent. She goes a bit too far, they push a bit too hard, and she might go dark vig enough for us to recruit her. Bonus points if she learns we’re just kids in a rough situation rather than hardened criminals who take pleasure in the pain of others. So, best she doesn’t meet you,” she concluded cheekily.  
  
Coil certainly had no intention of getting inside her Thinker/Shaker/Master range, that was for sure. He glanced back at the monitor, which had reached the very end - with her loaded into the van and spirited away, along with his stolen property. It mattered little to him; while he wasn’t going to set up security the day before the raid was planned, he’d spent the week shuffling around inventory so that the more...persnickety machines just so happened to be the ones being kept in those warehouses. With luck, Lung wouldn’t suspect a mole, since stuff being kept in the docks was assumed to be second-rate by default.  
  
“Do you know why Oni Lee took her?” he asked on a lark.  
  
Tattletale shook her head. “Lee’s hard to read at the best of times, and this already isn’t great video. Maybe if there was audio, I could hear what she said that made him back off so quick, but…” she shrugged, and her eyes shone with unsatisfied curiosity.  
  


* * *

  
_Click._  
  
Coil made notes on a digital map. Only a couple points to reference, but in time he’d have more of an idea of her patrol routes and the crimes she found in progress, and it would paint a picture of where she lived.  
  


* * *

  
_Click._  
  
Coil made a note to get ahold of the security camera footage from the convenience store; they might not have any cameras, but if they did, they’d get a clearer view of the girl when she wasn’t twirling around half a block away inside a crowd of gangbangers.  
  


* * *

  
_Click._  
  
Coil took out some frustrations on his pet Thinker, not even bringing up the video since this timeline was more for the stress relief of causing the annoying girl as much physical pain as she’d caused him mental pain.  
  


* * *

  
_Click._  
  


* * *

  
_Click._  
  


* * *

  
_Click._  
  
The sound of the lock echoed in his head, as Tattletale entered his office, accompanied by two guards. She looked put out at having waited so long. “Something urgent came up,” he answered her unasked question. “Don’t worry yourself over it. Report.”  
  
“Right. Well, we gave it ten minutes after Oni Lee and a few of the guards left, then went in. The remainder were mostly janitors and bean-counters this time of night, so they were about as cooperative as could be expected. Got in the vault no sweat, we loaded up most of the cash, and got out without a fuss.”  
  
“And the books?”  
  
“Glanced over them enough to cross-reference later, but didn’t wanna give the game away. When I got back to base...well, here’s what I’ve got--” she digs out a journal and deposits it on his desk, “--and the casino’s almost certainly laundering drug money. Client list was full of pseudonyms, and comparing with the list of dealers you gave me, I’ve got about ninety percent confidence in the locations of maybe a half-dozen safehouses. Probably not the best idea to hit them ourselves just yet, don’t want Lung after us too bad, but I’m sure you can think of somebody else who’d be happy to make problems for him.”  
  
Coil nodded. “Any complications?” he asked, as he began leafing through her notes. She’d pinpointed a couple location he’d already been sure of, which was as good as confirmation that he’d been right, and that meant the others were probably pretty solid intel as well.  
  
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure one of the guys texted Lee before it all went down, so I kind of rushed us out after that. Take was smaller than it could’ve been, but something slowed him down. Want me to look into it?”  
  
“That won’t be necessary. Oni Lee was lured away so this operation would be successful, and was delayed for similar reasons. I already know what kept him busy.”  
  
She shrugged. “Alrighty then. I guess all that’s left is making sure we get paid our share?”  
  
He waved her off. “The money will be deposited in your accounts, rest assured. Dismissed.” She gave him an odd look he couldn’t interpret, but didn’t protest as she was escorted out of his office. Privately, his thoughts turned back to Apprentice, planning out how to engage her. If she could be turned into an asset, that would be all well and good, but she was more likely to try and disrupt his plans.  
  
Close-quarters combat was her specialty, that much was clear. Getting close to her put you in Shaker/Master range, and let her predict you with ease. She’d dance around Rachel’s hellhounds with ease, and Grue’s darkness wouldn’t impede her enough to close the gap in their physical capabilities. Regent might stand a chance, he had decent range, but he couldn’t kite her properly; even tripping and stumbling the whole way, she’d catch him pretty quickly and then he’d be out of the game. Perhaps if Tattletale could get in close, she could get a read on the girl, maybe manipu  
  
Wait, no. Sarah had started getting a headache when she tried to delve deeper into the specifics of the girl’s powers more than a few times while he’d been cycling timelines. Plus, even if she could, giving Tattletale the chance to put her head together with another Thinker allied against Coil wasn’t a great plan. He was confident he could keep her controlled, but it was better to not take risks in these situations. Slow and steady wins the race, plan things out carefully and they’ll go your way.  
  
No, the Travelers were by far the superior option to send against Apprentice, if he wanted to engage her. Trickster, Ballistic, and Sundancer had range on her, Genesis could create a more dedicated melee monster capable of causing the girl problems, and Trickster’s teleportation switching would make kiting Apprentice a breeze, especially given she’d already proven vulnerable to surprise-teleport attacks from afar.  
  
Of course, it was all a moot point if she never showed up again. For all he pushed Tattletale for some information, between the awful footage and Oni Lee’s inscrutibility, she had no solid read on him near the end of the fight, leaving them no idea what he planned to do with his fallen foe. He made a note about her possibly being forcibly-recruited by the ABB, but figured that was unlikely; it was possible Sarah had mistaken her skin tone, but that was a long shot. Worth considering as a possibility, but not very likely. The uncertainty ate at him more than he cared to admit.  
  
He saved his file and closed down his station. He needed a quick nap; he was almost sure to receive a call from Fortress Construction, the PRT, or both regarding this matter once the business day proper started, and he needed to be fresh and ready for the day.  
  
...  
  
Elsewhere, Tattletale was checking her regular subforums on PHO and saw something new that looked...quite intriguing...


	6. Apathy 1.5

Apathy 1.5  
  
Taylor awoke, and existence _ached_. As the conscious world slowly seeped into her perception, the first thing she became aware of was the utter exhaustion that permeated her entire body, a kind of tired she’d never truly experienced before. She felt like a slinky stretched out too far to spring back again, or like that time she’d dislocated her arm during practice and was made to keep it that way for some time as ‘training to resist discomfort’ that was probably supposed to be more of a punishment than a direct lesson in pain management.  
  
Every attempt to move was like she was wading through sludge to accomplish anything. Twitching her fingers, taking a breath...even her eyelids felt indescribably heavy, her very thoughts sluggish and stumbling. The fatigue magnified into pain when she reached for the Force to heal herself, and had she not already been breathing out, it’s likely her remaining air would’ve wheezed out of her at the sudden sharp sensation in her brain.  
  
_< Focus on the pain. Take hold of its clarity and use it to affirm your grip on reality.>_  
  
Taylor nodded minutely, and continued reaching for the power within her despite the suffering it brought. Every attempt was like another spike in her brain, a punishment for reaching deeper when there was nothing left to grasp for the moment.  
  
_< This will pass, in time. You have over-exerted yourself, channeled more than you could handle tonight.>_  
  
The words came into better clarity the more Taylor desperately grasped for the Force. Every piercing headache plunging into her brain was used as a climbing spike to ascend out of the foggy land halfway between consciousness and unconsciousness. After another brief moment and one last reach, it was like a dam being broken, and the barest trickle of the Force began flowing through her. It wasn’t enough to get awareness of where she was, not even enough to assess the state of her body, but it was enough to assuage her panic for the moment.  
  
With a Herculean effort, she wrenched open her eyelids and leaned up in the gurney she was apparently lying in. Her eyes constantly threatened to close once more, but she kept them open and took in her surroundings - the situation she recalled being in last before the fatigue overwhelmed her did not fill her with a great deal of confidence as to her current situation, but there was some hope perhaps.  
  
...there was not. She certainly seemed to be in a hospital or a clinic (it was certainly clean enough), but the equipment in the room looked old and rundown. There was too much of it as well - more like it was being stored in here than used. She couldn’t hear the hustle and bustle that normally filled a clinic, and while the room was clean, it clearly wasn’t too recently - it didn’t have that fresh hospital smell, the one that was more a very insistent lack of scent than anything, where only the cleaning agents could be detected olfactorily. The detail of immediate concern was Oni Lee, leaning up against the wall and watching her...unmasked.  
  
_< This is a teachable moment. You will be on your own for this conversation, child. Prepare yourself.>_  
  
The words registered in Taylor’s mind and she just barely suppressed an audible grown - her mentor was playing games, so the situation couldn’t be too bad, but it was still aggravating. No doubt they’d be going over the conversation to come with a fine-tooth comb pointing out every point where Taylor had screwed up and needed improvement.  
  
The villain straightened as he noticed her stirring and took a few steps closer. “The bullet passed clean through your shoulder, and during the incident, the wound became cauterized on both sides,” he said by way of greeting. His voice was still a bit hoarse, and his tone detached, like he was just reading off a card. Had she screwed up putting his emotional responses back together, or was a career in medicine just the kind of thing that made you apathetic to all that after enough time?  
  
“I’ve cleaned away the dead flesh and disinfected as best I can,” he continued, either not noticing or not acknowledging the guarded look she was giving him, “Although our facilities here are limited, so only so much could be done in that regard. Your right shoulder and arm will still be a bit twingy for a week or two, during which time you’ll probably experience greater hunger and fatigue while your body works to repair the damage naturally. Paranormal treatment will increase your recovery time substantially, depending on the specifics of the power in question.”  
  
She nodded, and idly felt the area in question with her left hand. Unfortunately she couldn’t inspect the wound directly, since it was covered by--  
  
And just like that, it was as if a bucket of ice water washed over her. She was most definitely wide awake now, and able to properly focus on the conversation. She was very abruptly aware of the lack of weight on her head where her hood should rest, on the friction of fabric against her lips that should have been there but wasn’t. So that was why he was unmasked as well, then. She eyed him more carefully. What was he playing at?  
  
“There’s also some cream for your bruises on the side table,” he continued, apparently oblivious to her sudden stiffening. “Do you have any questions?”  
  
She eyed the man before her. The one she remembered experiencing was different - younger, his hair neat and vibrant black, rather than this choppy dark gray cut he was rocking now. It was short, but messy, like it had been cut to keep it out of his eyes more than anything to do with keeping up appearances. “Why did you heal me?” she asked, still feeling the situation out. He wanted something, she wasn’t sure what.  
  
“Why did you?” he asked back, and for the first time she hears a note of inflection in his tone. It’s too little to read directly, but its presence here and absence before…  
  
Taylor briefly bemoaned the Force’s absence at this moment - without it, without her mentor’s guidance, she was fumbling to read the man with her own skills. It didn’t help that even without his mask, he was clearly used to keeping himself in check enough that his body language and facial expressions were barely giving anything away.  
  
“...don’t worry about the time-frame. I’ll have myself fixed up fine and be back on the streets in no time,” Taylor says with a confidence she doesn’t quite feel. “That is, provided I’m allowed to leave.”  
  
“Of course,” Lee replies with a nod.  
  
“Hmm,” she hums noncommittally, as she glances around the room once more. There were no windows, and he was between her and the only door in or out. Certainly in her current state she couldn’t force her way past him, if he truly intended to keep her here, but fortunately it seemed that wouldn’t be necessary. She refocused on him as she drew her hood back up and slid the mask portion into place. “And how much of...all this...will you be keeping to yourself?” she asked.  
  
She thought she saw a flash of irritation in his eyes. At being found out, or something else. “I have no intention of spreading what little I know of your identity...or your powers. The last thing we need is the Empire having yet another reason to seek you out for themselves.” Ah, irritation at the idea he’d betray what little trust there was between them now.  
  
“Does not talking include Lung?” she asked casually, as she began dismounting the gurney. Her legs were wobbly beneath her for a moment, so she rested on the edge and eyed him. “You will need to tell him something of what’s happened here, yes?”  
  
Lee doesn’t hesitate, although a slight stiffening in his body language tells her she’s on the mark. “I will need to inform him now, while I still can, in case I’m incapable of doing so in the future.” A different kind of pain lanced through her head at that, this time built of guilt rather than fatigue. “Unless you can confirm that this is...a permanent fix?” Ah, so that was it, she was just overthinking things. He was playing nice with the healer cape, that’s all.  
  
Taylor didn’t have the energy to check his mind over at this time, but he didn’t need to know she was running on dregs. She made a slight show of observing him more directly for a few moments, her eyes glazing over as she gazed into the middle distance, before replying: “If there is degradation, I’m not seeing any. But then it’s only been…” she hesitates deliberately.  
  
“You’ve been unconscious for just about 80 minutes now,” he supplies, just as she’d been hoping. It was good that she hadn’t been out too long, she could still get home in time for the schedule she’d set for herself when she left the house...but it was also less than ideal, because it meant he’d had time to think things over.  
  
“...right, only 80 minutes,” she continued. “We’ll see in time, I suppose, won’t we?”  
  
“Perhaps. Perhaps not, if you’re going to insist on continuing as you have tonight.”  
  
She glanced at him. Had she misheard? “You want me to not go out fighting crime. For purely altruistic reasons, I’m sure,” she added dryly.  
  
His lips tightened, but he didn’t otherwise react to the rather unsubtle rebuke. “You have many gifts, to be sure, but healing is a rarity. It’s not like most powers, it can make the world a better place.”  
  
Taylor shook her head. “It stems the tide, but it doesn’t improve, it only undoes the damage being done elsewhere. It’s a band-aid on a bullet wound. I’d rather take out the shooter.”  
  
“Escalating like that just means you’re playing the same game they are, and they’ll be more experienced,” Lee replied. “You might have lost tonight, facing down my men and I, and that was with the assistance of a veteran Protectorate cape.”  
  
“I won tonight,” she shot back. “I wouldn’t have passed out if I didn’t heal you.”  
  
  
“You wouldn’t have needed to heal me if you had not put my life in danger in the first place.”  
  
“I didn’t have to save you. I didn’t want to be a murderer.” She stared him down, and he shifted minutely. She sighs. “I can take care of myself well enough. Tonight has been a wake-up call, but not in the sense that I need to leave this behind entirely. It’s just a lesson to be more careful in the future.”  
  
“Are you joining the heroes?”  
  
Taylor remains silent for a moment. “I’m going to be a hero, with or without them.”  
  
“You will be a hero with them, and dead without. Going it alone is a death sentence no matter what side of the law you’re on. If you won’t join them…”  
  
“I’m not joining you either,” she interrupts. “I’m not--”  
  
“You’re a hero, yes I recall. Or you want to be, at least. You’re still young, you’re not evaluating the risks properly. I…” Lee stops, and takes a deep breath, just a touch of a shudder betraying his nerves. “If words gets out of your capabilities - and it will with or without my help, mark my words - then the only people willing to fight you will be those attempting to get you under their thumb. You will be left unprepared for whoever comes after you. And no matter who wins you, everybody loses. Join the Protectorate, or New Wave, or just disappear to retire. Hell,” he added, a bit of fire seeping into his voice, “Even if you’re not willing to join up, we could pay for services. Having another person working to undo the damage...you can’t imagine how much it would change things.”  
  
Taylor regards him for a moment. “Then you’ll be right there beside me, yes?” His gaze flickers, and she smiles inwardly. “Another person working to undo the damage, yes?”  
  
“I’m not a healer. I can’t mend flesh and bone with a touch,” he says, a slight bitter note tainting the words. “And I’ve got my own people to worry about, holding strong against the filth of this city.”  
  
“Ah, you’re one of _those_ doctors, my mistake.”  
  
“I’ve got my own problems to manage, I can’t deal with everyone else’s too!” he spits out. “I’m no hero!”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
...  
  
They stared at each other for a minute, neither backing down. “There’s always a choice, Doctor,” Taylor said eventually. “It’s not always easy, but the hard choices don’t stop being hard once you make them." She got to her feet, and after barely swaying for a moment, stood upright without any assistance. “...if your mind relapses, seek me out and I’ll fix it again. Only your mind.” She made her way past him to the door. He made no move to stop her.  
  
“Oh.” She stopped just before reaching it. “And if you’re tracking me down, try to do so in a way that’s not going to out me, yes?” She left, not bothering to look back to see if he’d answered non-verbally or not.  
  
It turned out they had been in some small clinic, she noted as she made her way through the building. She also saw more than a few ABB idling within, but none of them gave her any trouble on the way out. One of them gave her a bit of a dirty look - a woman she’d engaged while Velocity held Lee off - but no words or blows were exchanged, and Taylor passed her on by. She saw even more idling in cars as she exited the building and started her journey to the Boardwalk, but none of them followed her away.  
  
Several minutes into her walk, the trickle was steadily increasing, and she had enough power to get awareness of her body once more. As she walked, she began to assess the damage.  
  
_< Leave that for now and focus on your surroundings. You are injured and vulnerable, don’t blind yourself to further attacks looking inward until you are somewhere safe again.>_  
  
Taylor suppressed another groan and began practicing her scouting skills, keeping an eye out for anyone or anything around her that might give her trouble. She was tempted to expand her awareness to encompass her surroundings, but at least for the moment her eyes could see further than she could feel, and pushing like that would be that much less power if something did end up happening.  
  
_< Indeed. We will discuss this conversation in greater detail later, when distracting you with constructive criticism isn’t an unnecessary risk.>  
  
{Constructive criticism? I thought I handled that really well!}_ Taylor shot back. She knew full well what her master considered ‘constructive’.  
  
_< Oh indeed, you played upon his weakness well, and got him to attack his own position at one point. This will have value going forward. It is the early stages, where he got you to admit almost immediately to your own fault in his mental damage, and to admit to your self-healing capabilities that mistakes were made. You got a good deal out of him, but it was hardly one-sided.>_  
  
Taylor didn’t bother answering. Her mentor had high standards, particularly when it came to conversations like this. As far as she was concerned, this had been a remarkable improvement over her previous attempts in her private life. _{You’re making it sound worse than it was.}  
  
<In a sense, but you are downplaying the mistakes in an attempt to soothe your own ego. Rest assured, child, that if I had thought a loss at this stage unsalvageable, I would not have left you blowing in the wind unassisted. You have both left this debate with the impression that you owe him future mind-healing should it be necessary, which is almost assuredly what he wanted out of this, first and foremost,>_ they lectured on. Taylor didn’t tune them out, exactly, but rather kept her primary focus on not getting ambushed.  
  
_< But you have also set the stage for future victories - even if he believes you easily-manipulated via your conscience, you will be hardened against such things going forward. Let him think you are weak where you are strong.>_ Taylor simply walked for a few minutes, running over bits of the conversation in her head. Mercifully she was allowed to silently contemplate these things without additional commentary.  
  
_{...do you think it’ll get out that I’m a healer, with or without him?}_ she asked after some time.  
  
_< It is difficult to say. Only you and he were aware of that capability among the combatants, but any onlookers may be able to spread tales. Additionally, some of his subordinates may have theories as to why you were allowed to walk away from the clinic tonight, and some of those theories may strike painfully close. He is right on one point at least: should it get out, you will find yourself becoming a very valuable prize for any that wish to compete for control. Practice caution, my apprentice.>_  
  
Taylor nodded, and redoubled her efforts to reach somewhere safe to change. As the dregs of her power gathered, she pushed outwards to turn away the attention of others - it wouldn’t make her invisible, as it had before, but maintaining that kind of protection was unnecessary at this point. This would merely dissuade those who noticed her from paying her too much attention for the time she was in their sight. It wasn’t very strong at all, but hopefully, it’d be enough to keep her from getting followed home.  
  
…  
  
Nearly two hours later, she had finally arrived. Her father would be waking up soon enough, so she switched out her costume for normal clothes and started making some early breakfast. She’d have to suffer through another day without sleep in order to get her cycles back on track, but it was necessary for the deception to work. Sure enough, he didn’t seem to notice anything amiss when he awoke with the sun. They exchanged smiles and greetings as he prepared some coffee to go with the eggs and bacon she was frying up. Once the food was finished, she brought him out a plate to where he was watching the early morning news.  
  
_“--nkfully nobody was harmed in the attack, although authorities have confirmed that Winslow High’s computer files were compromised. Our sources have indicated that this may be an almost immediate retaliation to the robbery executed by a small-time parahuman gang on one of the ABB’s properties, a casino deep in the docks with a long history and ties to the Asian-American community here in the Bay. The gang in question, the Undersiders, consists almost entirely of what is estimated to be older teens from troubled backgrounds, leading some to believe this attack is an attempt to uncover their identities.”_  
  
Taylor returned with her own plate and silently ate while they watched the news together. The report continued in this vein, mostly wild speculation as to the motive and overly-confident predictions of greater crackdowns by the PRT in the future for getting a school involved in inter-gang conflicts. Not that anybody would really care, it was Winslow, but…  
  
_< It seems he’s done as you asked. This won’t necessarily trace back to you, simply too much was taken for them to be sure what information the ABB was truly after.>  
  
{...I need to train more before going back out.}  
  
<On that we can agree.>_


	7. Agony 1.D

Gotten halfway through a few chapter seeds for what to do next with Taylor but none of them really felt right. So I tossed out the half-written Dinah interlude that would've come way later and rewrote it to be the same weekend. I'm mostly happy with the results.  
  


* * *

  
Agony 2.D  
  
Under most circumstances, Dinah could have heard so much, standing here: the laughter and cajoling of teenagers as they putt past the windmills and plastic alligators and weird dips in the astroturf; younger children crying because they'd lost their ball from hitting it too hard, or because they hadn't been allowed to get ice cream; parents making idle conversation while keeping half an eye on their charges; the gentle sounds of running water features that so frequently prettied up places like this.  
  
But Dinah couldn't hear any of that right now. Her auditory world was dominated by one solitary sound, repeating every few seconds as she went through the motions.  
  
 _ ***Crack***_  
  
Ball hit bat and rang out her successful blow. Even as it sailed up towards the net, the impact viciously vibrated up the bat, up her arm, and through the rest of her body. It rattled her helmet and shook her skull. She almost felt as if her teeth were rattling in her jaw, even though logically she knew they weren't.  
  
Her fingers were numb from so many previous hits. Her muscles were burning from a level of exercise she wasn't used to. Her head was pounding, and not just from the impact. Her whole body ached something dreadful, silently begging her to stop pushing herself.  
  
She'd felt worse before. Much, _much_ worse.  
  
 _ ***Crack***_  
  
Each solid metallic 'crack' was music to her ears, and each soaring ball a sight to behold. Oh, sure, it wasn't that the sport itself held any particular interest in her, but it was a form of exercise that would prepare her well for the life ahead. Lots of running and jumping and wielding heavy objects as weapons...it wasn't the kind of life she wanted for herself, really, but events had conspired against her.  
  
She could cry about it, dread the career in store for her, hide away from attempts to drag her into it, but those attempts were already coming. Crying and hiding wouldn't stop that, so she needed to accept her fate and prepare for it properly. And first and foremost, that meant getting in shape.  
  
The next pitch came screaming at her, but it seemed to crawl through the air from her perspective. This machine pitched far slower than Dinah would've liked, but faster than her dad was comfortable with. It was an uneasy compromise, a middle-ground position she'd been forced to accept, because that's just how things worked when you were twelve. Really, she was lucky to even get that much compromise.  
  
...but then, 'lucky' wasn't the right word, was it? Her father had caved on this issue for the same reason he'd brought her here at all tonight: guilt.  
  
 _ ***Crack***_  
  
Another attempt had been made Thursday, when they'd gone to the mall to get her some new clothes. Dinah felt it coming, known as surely as she knew her own name, that they were watching her and waiting, ready to strike should an opportunity present itself. When her father had gotten distracted by crossing paths with an old high school buddy, the odds of her capture shot up.  
  
If she wasn't constantly monitoring her own safety, she might well have been snatched up within the next couple minutes without her father any the wiser. As it was, Dinah had slipped away from the small group of adults crowding around a few tables and had gone deeper into the mall, looking for somewhere she might be able to hide, or maybe a group of people large enough or vigilant enough that they'd provide her better protection for the next few minutes than her father was apparently capable of.  
  
 _ ***Crack***_  
  
A dozen questions and a killer migraine later, she'd found her safety net: a gaggle of high school mall rats, of all things, increased her odds of escape from the low teens to the low eighties. She kept close to them in the crowd, but still the feeling of being watched, of being followed, persisted at the back of her mind.  
  
Her stalker wove through the crowd after them, and while she could almost feel his presence like a sixth sense, she was only able to spy an occasional glance on him that wasn't obscured by the crowd.  
  
Being short made this counter-espionage much harder, and she never got a good look at his face. Despite her own difficulties, though, her faith in these empty-headed teens paid off: after a couple minutes, one of the girls grabbed her arm and pulled her in close with the group, who all bunched up around her.  
  
Even with Dinah trying her best to pay attention to everything around her, she hadn't noticed she wasn't the only one keeping her head on a swivel: it turned out this Sophia had noticed her tailing them almost immediately, and had finally figured out the girl was being stalked by someone else in the crowd.  
  
Sophia seemed to always keep one eye on either her or the stalker as they talked, never letting her guard down for even a moment. Dinah got a real 'protective big sister' vibe from her that made her feel better about this decision, and she told them she’d gotten separated from her father in the crowd, and noticed this man following her.  
  
 _ ***Crack***_  
  
Dinah didn't know why, but Sophia's vigilance sent the odds of her capture plummeting for good that night, and the stalker vanished into the crowd after. It was comforting at least - that kind of abrupt change in the numbers always indicated that the danger had passed, even if she was never really sure why.  
  
The group of teens got her back to her dad without much fuss, who went into a state when he finally realized she'd been missing for several minutes at this point. She hadn't gotten enough of a look at him to give any kind of description, but the other girls were more on-the-ball and had a bunch of little things to share.  
  
She hadn't bothered telling her father it was another kidnapping attempt by that same mysterious group of men - she'd long since learned he'd never believe her until confronted with proof, and that proof would never really come until it was too late for him to do anything about. The same way she knew every attempt was imminent and life-threatening up until some magical moment where it wasn't, as if it had never been.  
  
 _ ***Crack***_  
  
This time had been different, after all. Where usually she'd just get this feeling of dread, and react to sensed threats, only for nothing to occur, this time something _had_ happened, even if only slightly.  
  
It had been enough that her safety was now on his mind - the guilt for nearly failing her, the worry that something similar would happen in the future, the fear that the police wouldn't find this man before he tried again on some other little girl in the mall, and the desire to keep her happy.  
  
Dinah preyed upon the guilt he felt at his moment of weakness and failure. That’s why he was being more open to things tonight, why they were here at her insistence and despite his concerns. He worried for her safety, but he was more worried that she'd tell her mother, expose his failure to the family, and him keeping her happy staved off that unspoken threat for the moment.  
  
 ** _*Ping-Thump*_**  
  
She winced, as the ball glanced off her bat and, instead of sailing into the sky to hit the net, rocketed behind her to impact the backstop.  
  
 _< Odds that your accuracy and power would be sufficient to incapacitate one of your stalkers.>_  
  
A mosaic spread out before her in her mind, endless pictures of endless realities with slight variations between, and the throbbing pain in her head redoubled. A mere month before, such a question after so many more in the past few hours would've left her a sobbing wreck, as it had the first time she'd narrowly avoided an attempt to whisk her away. As it had the first night she was no longer alone in her own head.  
  
Now, no sound of pain escaped her lips, no tears-to-be glistened in her eyes. Now, the pain that had once been the worst she could possibly imagine was something she constantly lived with, as part of her eternal vigilance...and the worst pain she could imagine was a far higher bar to clear.  
  
"37.7219 percent," the words slipped past her lips in a daze, even as the muted thump of another ball hitting the backstop sounded out. Sure, such a blow would require her to get a good hit on their head, which was why accuracy and speed mattered, but it was far better than she had any right to expect given her stature. She settled into her stance, ready and waiting. Sure enough, as the next ball began sailing towards her...  
  
 _< Odds that your accuracy and power would be sufficient if enhanced with the Force.>  
  
 ***CRACK***_  
  
The mosaic flaired up again, as did the pounding. She pushed through it to focus on her task, hitting the ball as hard as she could, and watching as it rocketed straight back towards the machine that had spat it out. A distant _thud_ brought a smile to her lips, and her grip tightened, even as her fingers felt ready to fall off at any moment. "88.1125 percent," she whispered with no small degree of satisfaction.  
  
It seemed her passenger was less enthused with this improvement than she was, though. _< You're far behind where I want you to be. You've started training like this too late in life-->_  
  
Dinah rolled her eyes, but knew better than to protest that she was only twelve. She knew that they would just point to Vista, a girl her own age who'd joined the Wards a bit over a year earlier, and was already a rising star for her power and creativity in the field. She knew that they would insist they had begun training at an even earlier age, an _absurdly_ early age. But questioning led to arguments and arguments led to punishments and Dinah was suffering enough as it was, so she held her tongue.  
  
 _< \--so you're just going to have to work twice as hard to get where you should be. You _will _fulfill your potential. I won't settle for less. >  
  
 ***Crack***  
  
<Keep targeting the machine. You should be hitting it with every shot, but your shaking limbs will probably betray you. Try anyway.>_  
  
Dinah settled back into her stance and kept swinging. But it seemed focusing her efforts on that one pitch had broken her concentration a bit. The fatigue in her limbs was harder to ignore now that her focus wasn't on diverting the aching and throbbing and burning. The next few pitches were still solid hits, but only one more struck the machine itself, with most of them going a bit above or to the side.  
  
 _< You should not be ignoring these feelings you should be embodying them. Accept this pain as the cost of living, channel it into everything you do! Now swing and HIT THE MACHINE!>_  
  
She felt like crying, but tears would only make things worse. She tightened her grip and swung as hard as she could, trusting muscle memory to send the ball where it belonged.  
  
 ** _*Ping-Thump*_**  
  
 _<...perhaps you need a closer target to aim at. The blows already struck have misaligned its aim - the next one will be a bit closer in, and a bit higher. Adjust your stance so that you take it to the face.>_  
  
She hesitated just long enough for the next one to shoot right past her face, proving them correct. The thump it made against the backstop promised repercussions.  
  
 _< Odds that you will regret me having to give that order a second time.>_  
  
Their usual deep, grating tone held a sharper edge to it, one she had heard too many times before. "100 percent," she muttered, even as her footwork shifted to obey. Dinah knew the kinds of questions that might follow if she didn't comply - questions that would split her head open and tear her power apart. She knew how she'd be made to put the pieces back together within a day despite the agony, on threat of further questions while it was still in shambles. She had no intention of provoking that kind of reaction by disobeying, she'd learned her lesson enough times by now to know it wasn't an idle threat.  
  
She braced herself for the hit, trusting the helmet would hold. Trusting that they wouldn't actually kill her just for some fucked-up lesson.  
  
 _< This is for your own good. You will thank me for all of this, some day.>  
  
 ***CRACK***_  
  
Dinah's vision exploded into stars and squigglies chasing each other, and she let out a scream - she'd still felt worse, but even now it was possible she was being watched, and until her tormentors discovered her remarkable pain tolerance for themselves, she intended to keep that advantage to herself for as long as possible.  
  
The stabbing pain in her head that accompanied every beat of her heart screamed louder still, blotting out all noise around, at least from her perspective. For a brief moment that felt like an eternity, she was allowed to rest, to just let the pain flow through her without fighting against it as she had all night.  
  
Distantly, she felt her back impact the ground; instinctively, she curled her head in towards her chest, just like she'd practiced. Her body crumpled to the ground but no second sudden impact hit her head from behind, which just showed how the training was paying off. She lay there on the ground, and despite the pain - maybe even _because_ of the pain - she'd never felt more alive than she did in that moment.  
  
...  
  
...  
  
Dinah woke up, suddenly very alert and shaking. Every muscle ached and burned. She sat up, despite her body’s silent protests, and scanned the area, thinking furiously. She knew from talk she heard sometimes at the dinner table that people didn’t usually get knocked out for just a few minutes, so something must’ve roused her. But what?  
  
She checked the numbers, and grimaced. It seemed her watchers had started making a move when she was unconscious, and her new abilities, the ones that let her sense the danger, had triggered some kind of fight-or-flight instinct that ended her well-earned slumber.  
  
It hadn't even been three days, and already another attempt? They were growing bolder, moving more frequently, and she wasn’t really at the point where she could deal with them, not really. She can't have been down for too long, if the numbers been rising at this rate the whole time, but if they kept increasing, she needed to find somewhe--  
  
...wait, no, they were going back down, dropping now that she was awake again. What?  
  
It was relieving and concerning that her waking up had scared off whatever attempt this would've been. Relieving, because it meant her efforts were bearing fruit: her being conscious was enough of a problem for their operation that they weren't even risking an attempt. But also concerning in that, despite never truly engaging her, they were aware of how she was improving.  
  
 _< Not fully aware. They'll never truly understand what you're capable of - for a second, you achieved perfection, I felt it. It's gone now, but still. No matter what they bring to bear, military arms or esoteric parahuman abilities, it will pale in comparison to the raw power of the Force.>_  
  
They were silent for a moment, during which Dinah ruminated on what a gigantic tool they were, talking like some cheesy TV show villain-of-the-week. _< We're done for tonight. Your father won't let you do more anyway, and forcing his hand would be inadvisable. Pick your battles wisely, while you are still too weak to fight them all.>_  
  
Dinah brushed off her father’s concerns, insisting she felt fine. She didn’t, but she’d heal up enough come morning, and would be all the stronger for it, and she didn’t feel a need to concern him with little details like that. He eventually accepted her feelings, but he drew the line at staying. Despite her pleas, while he wouldn’t be taking her to a hospital like he’d initially planned, they were most definitely done for the night.  
  
…  
  
…  
  
The car ride home was quiet and tense. While he may not have been particularly observant, Dinah’s father had picked up on her mood turning a bit sour when they left, and it had gotten him a bit worked up too. He’d spent a few minutes telling her that she should trust his guidance, that he’d known it was a bit too dangerous and that she should listen next time.  
  
She wanted to tell him that if he had any balls he would’ve put his foot down before she got hit upside the head. She wanted to tell him that she’d done it on purpose, that she was always in control of the ball. She wanted to tell him that he seemed like he was yelling at himself for being a failure more than he was yelling at her for being a child having fun.  
  
But she said nothing...at least, not aloud. She wanted to discuss her safety, but with somebody who would _actually_ discuss it with her, rather than pull authority. Somebody who wasn’t blind to what was going on in her life, who was always there for her even when she would’ve preferred they weren’t. Somebody who could teach her to be strong.  
  
 _< He will be unlikely to allow you back, but training must continue. You will need to seek out opportunities to practice without his knowledge. Sneaking out at night perhaps, or walking home from school instead of riding the bus. This is a good workout, and you don’t possess the tools necessary to pull it off at home. Especially if he’s about to grow truly vigilant about this.>  
  
{That’s a way to practice that’s just going to put me in danger more often. What good is getting practice if it gets me snatched up?!}  
  
<Your options are limited and failure is inevitable. This is not a war you can win at this point in your life, it is more a question of how long you will last. And your best chance is through training like this, where you can practice weapon skills without arousing suspicion. This is not up for debate. Do _not _test me on this. >_  
  
Dinah let out a frustrated sigh. Her father glanced back at her, but she refused to meet his gaze, and soon enough his attention returned to the road.  
  
 _{I’m not saying I don’t want to do this again! I do, because it felt...}_ she trailed off, not even really sure how to describe the odd exhilaration she’d felt for that brief moment before blacking out. _{...whatever. I’m just saying, there’s other ways of getting to do this more often. But I don’t know if I can convince him when he’s like this, I’ve been pushing a lot today.}  
  
<...if it will lead to the desired outcome, then I shall assist you in this matter to the best of my ability, my apprentice. Explain.>_  
  
Dinah nodded, to herself and to her incorporeal passenger, before glancing up at the mirror. _{My new school has a team for that sport. It’ll give me lots of training. There’s always lots of people around, and it’ll let me socialize and make friends. That’s a lot of people around who can keep an eye on me, and a lot of people who will be checking up on me if I go missing. Layers of safety, and I get to hang out with kids my age instead of just hiding all the time.}  
  
{But he’s in a mood now, and I don’t have time to wait for him to calm down before asking about this. I need to...}_ She trailed off again, unsure even how to go about doing this.  
  
 _< You will need to appeal to his sense of authority. Admit you overestimated yourself tonight, apologize for questioning his expertise, then hint that you’ve been wanting to get into this...sport for awhile but worried you weren’t good enough. He’ll accept the win, and be more open to the idea of letting you off the leash a bit more. Here’s what you do…>_  
  
Dinah settled in for a brief mental lesson on the art of manipulating superiors that didn’t deserve their positions. She eyed her father carefully - she barely felt any connection to him anymore. Everything was a fight for survival and freedom now, and if he got in the way of her training herself, he was her adversary, intentionally or not.  
  
She’d get past him, get through him if she had to. She had power now, real power, and she wasn’t going to bend to anybody she didn’t have to.


End file.
